Lost Faith
by Harnestarpower
Summary: Set after Series 5-The Dark Tower-What happens when Merlin makes a spilt second decision to save Arthur, revealing his magic? What will become of the warlock that has protected the kingdom for years? Will he survive the king's decision? Or lose himself before the ruler can make it? No Slash!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:I own Nothing of Merlin**

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It was a nightmare. It had to be some kind illusion. There was no alternative.

The Queen of Camelot stood a few feet from him ready to let the next arrow fly, the previous one having missed his head by inches while his servant had pushed them both to the ground. The weapon unleashed, from the powerful, lethal crossbow one Leon had been particularly fond of, a serious expression on her face as her eyes connected with young king. He was vaguingly aware of his servant turning from him to his wife, concerned for his king from beside him cornered on the floor, and throwing a powerful glare towards the assassin. Then his friend had jerked the arrow out of the wall with a strength he did not know the man possessed. Irrational fear gripped him as a head of short raven hair flashed forward, the feather of the weapon in his hand whistling softly as he shot ahead, tackling a shocked and suddenly frightened Guinevere.

Kneeling above her was a man she did not know. He wore an angry and determined expression as he plunged the arrow towards her forehead. Unfamiliar words brought the atmosphere in the room to life, terror rose in her throat as the tip of the arrow began to glow. She was vaguely aware of the king stumbling to his feet when the tip of the arrow shot out a blinding light.

The scene that unfolded before him was one he had yet to imagine. His best friend had pinned down his wife on the floor of his chambers moving for his hands to hang at his sides, his shoulders slumped in relief.

The king took measured steps towards his servant.

"Merlin, what did you just say?"

Obviously the servant misheard his master, as well as the situation and answered with a teasing air, "What do you mean, sire? Did you hit your head too hard when I saved your arrogant royal ass?"

Merlin's words had barley left his mouth when he felt a cold metal at nape of his neck. He tensed, realizing the situation at last. He had allowed himself a few seconds to relax when his king was out of danger but now…

Quickly as he dared, he slid aside, facing the king at last.

Camelot's finest knight looked past his servant, desperate to know his wife's condition. Her eyes remained shut however, and she did not stir.

"What did you do to her?" he whispered, sorrow filling his voice.

His young friend eyes widened and tears sprung from nowhere as he caught on to the king's meaning. _Does he think… I killed her?_

"Answer me!" he yelled, with all the authority he could muster as fury gripped him.

Merlin took a deep breath to steady his shock and raging emotions. "I have saved her from Morgana's darkness she sustained in the tower we saved her from."

"Y-you used magic!"

"It was the only way I could bring her back. Arthur, I have only ever used magic to protect you and Camelot." He said unyieldingly, hoping his determined gaze would penetrate his friend's mind.

"I trusted you! And you have been practicing magic? How could you?" the last three words broke off into a hiss of disgust.

Merlin could felt his tears suddenly dry. When he spoke, it with a voice filled with an almost other worldly authority. "**Arthur Pendragon. I am Emrys, the warlock destined to defend the Once and Future King**!" He closed his eyes a moment, steeling himself. Opening them he looked tired and worn. "I made you a promise." He said as he had calmed enough for the tears to start to prickle again while Arthur sat stunned on the floor, "That I would be here to protect and serve you."

Hearing a disturbance in the king's chambers, guards and knights on duty barged into the room. Stunned at the scene before them, their queen unmoving on the floor and the king sitting on the ground unable to remove his shocked gaze from his servant, they ran to their king's aid, surrounding the man between their rulers, two of the knights attempting to tend to woman who lie still on the ground.

Vaguely, Merlin was aware of the swords pointed accusingly at him as he backed up away from the king and queen the men tentatively yielding towards where he was headed. Before they could so much as thrust their weapons, he had turned out the door and ran.

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Thanks to Beta-SummerQuill


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all the reviews, follows and encouragement! I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! Please feel free to give me feedback. Enjoy!**

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Arthur finally blinked, information flooding his mind as the knights rushed to check on him.

_Merlin was a sorcerer_. Hurt rushed through his troubled sky blue irises.

When he blinked again, rage was evident in his eyes as he began barking orders. Within minutes all his knights and guards were ringing the warning bell and gathering their weapons.

The king and his knights mounted their horses while the guards searched on foot, all looking for the new threat. They ran through the streets, catching only signs and glimpses of the traitor. Finally, after questioning a startled woman, they picked up his trail leading them to one of the outer city walls.

The sorcerer was cornered.

He looked around terrified, panting from trying to elude them; he fell to his knees exhausted and hid his face with his hands.

Men surrounded him from all possible exits. The king himself stepped forward, a passing breeze ruffling his hair when he stopped many paces from the man he had trusted so completely, anger still reining supreme and hanging heavily in his heart.

Merlin looked up, hands revealing his face once more, tears sparkling in the moonlight.

The calm wind around them stared to gain in strength, changing from a gentle breeze, into a force not to be trifled with. It circled and centered it's focus around the man in question, as his gaze found Arthur's once more, this time filled with hurt, fear, and loss.

Only a whisper was left in the air around them as Merlin vanished and the wind died down.

"I'm sorry."

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Merlin found himself collapsed on the ground after the spell took him to a deserted hill outside of Camelot's reach.

_Camelot._

_Arthur._

Curling in on himself he sobbed shamelessly. For he had failed in his destiny, and lost his best friend.

_He had failed._

Too exhausted with the events of the day to be truly angry, grief and sorrow took him into the calming embrace of unconsciousness.

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_Screaming was all she knew. _

_Her ears rang with the sound of it. She was hunched over gripping her legs tightly to her. She saw images, flashes of memories that she knew were taking place, but had little input or control of them. She seemed to be lost in this never ending darkness, knowing exactly the person who had put her there._

_Morgana._

_She knew and remembered nothing but a stubborn, compassionate, beautiful person. But when she thought of her but now.. Now was a very different story. The woman she had regarded not only as her mistress, but her best friend, was completely gone. In her place was a hate filed, power hungry darkness that wanted to take all that her former servant loved and destroy it._

_In this perpetual darkness, her misgivings of kindness had only been cleverly placed distractions to open her heart and mind for what seemed like only a second. These illusions of her loved ones came to her, to offer what she thought was comfort, which she immediately seized, only to have them laugh in her face the moment she let them in, making it easier rip at her kind heart and the small lingering flicker of her hope._

_She was trapped in her own mind. Was no one, not even Arthur could save her._

_Then the faintest of hopes started to whisper to her, not all in words, but in a calming air. None of the dark illusions had tried this before. Normally she could tell herself they weren't real and eventually they would stop tormenting her, for a time. _

_But this seemed different._

_She could feel comforting warmth begin to beckon her. She looked up._

_Light finally pierced her vision. It was a small light, but it seemed warm, comforting, reassuring, and, above all, pure. _

_Desperately she began to act on a spit second decision, and stood unsteadily to her feet._

_This light felt different then anything similar to what she had felt before, and somehow she knew it would not fail her, for if it did, she could no longer fight to hold on to life._

_She stepped slowly towards it, feeling every bit of grief, sadness, and terror banished from her mind. Once she reached the light it seemed to reach out toward her as it spoke. _

'_Gwen.'_

_She recognized the voice immediately. 'Merlin?'_

_Then the world erupted into to light._


	3. Chapter 3

The queen woke with a start, slowly taking in her surroundings and recognizing them as her own, currently vacant, chambers.

Then everything came into focus.

She sat up straight in bed as her husband and healer entered the room.

The king stopped in mid conversation with the court physician, his eyes locked with hers. Immediately he rushed over to her side.

"Guinevere!" he exclaimed, his voice caught in uncertain emotions. "Gaius, I thought you said there was nothing you could do?" he said looking over at the physician questioningly who had reclaimed his seat in the chair opposite the king.

"Indeed I did, sire. It was beyond my skill to heal her. Her pulse had slowed dangerously and I was about to give up hope." He said evenly, but equally astonished.

"Then how-?"

"Arthur." called Guinevere, instantly reclaiming the king's full attention as tears sprang to life in her troubled eyes. "I-I was trapped within myself after being dragged to that tower." She shivered. "I remember some things, but was not in control of myself. Oh Arthur, I'm so sorry." She began to sob, unable to control the on slot of relief and regret raging through her.

Arthur gently took one of her hands from the blankets she gripped like a life line, afraid she might slip back into the darkness, and kissed it. "It was not of your own volition to take any of the actions that have happened. It is not your fault. You are not to blame."

He then took her into his arms as she wept, tired, but relieved.

"Now we have to start our search. All the patrols have been put on high alert and have been told to exercise extreme caution." He told Gaius, over her head. "We are not sure of the measures he will take."

'_Gwen.'_

Guinevere's eyes shot open as she jerked from her husband's hold.

"Arthur! I-there was a light. In all the darkness I finally saw a light. It saved me." She said in earnest, begging the king to listen. "Merlin. He saved me." She finished, stunned at her state of absolute certainty.

"What- I, Gwen, Merlin is- he can't have." He stammered, looking to the old physician.

"Gaius it is not possible that he could have-?" But the physician seemed unperturbed at this revelation as he looked over at the king.

"I told you, sire. I could not have saved Gwen with the spell she was under. It was beyond my skill."

_I have saved her from Morgana's darkness she sustained in the tower we saved her from._

"But Morgana's enchantment, surely that was too strong for him to over power." He said doubtfully.

_I am Emrys, the warlock destined to defend the Once and Future King._

Arthur frowned. "Gaius, what is a warlock?"

* * *

"Sire?"

"No harm will come to you Gaius, but you must tell me everything. Now."

Gaius sighed a long, deep lung full of air, the old physician relenting to tell Arthur everything he knew about warlocks, speaking of the heroic deeds Merlin had preformed after giving Guinevere a much needed sleeping draft.

Hours later found the king sitting at the table staring silently at his cup of tea the physician had provided him with. He watched the stem rise from the cup as his mind whirled. It reminded him of their fight at Ealdor, when a fierce wind had saved them. When a crying woman had come before his father speaking of a horse conjured within smoke. Merlin's stricken face as a cyclone of wind carried him away.

Arthur next realized he had left the physician's chambers and was now closing the door to his own, studying the fire. He was sure someone had spoken to him as he left and on the way to his rooms, but couldn't find the strength to care. Not wishing to see anyone, he went to his desk to jot down a quick note. _No one is to disturb me, or the queen this evening. Everyone is to continue their normal duties._ He then signed it with his signal so they would not think it was a fake or he had been kidnapped, and handed to one of the guards on duty in order to gain some peace.

Honestly, he felt drained. Everything he knew to be the absolute truth had been turned upside down. Gwen had been deceiving him under an enchantment, and Merlin… Merlin had used magic, something he thought his servant incapable of doing. _So how much of Merlin's explanations were actually true?_

He wanted to be angry, but after hearing Gaius's recollections, he felt as though he was the one to blame. So many tragedies had happened to his friend without his knowledge, and he had not been there for him. But was that really his fault? Merlin was the one who had chosen not to confide in him, but then, what choice did he have? If he had told him the truth, was there any guarantee that Merlin would be safe? Could he hold this one person above the law? No, he couldn't.

But Gaius, he had known all along. How had he not seen that before?

'_Because you are an arrogant egotist, sire.'_

He couldn't help but smirk at the unspoken comment he knew would have come from his servant.

_So now what am I to do? Leave him out there to find his own way? Bring him back? Or.._

_Hunt him down._

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_**Thanks everyone! Every time someone follows, reviews, or favorites let's me know you're enjoying the story as much as I am writing it! Thank you all for being with me so far! **_

_**In the next chapter we'll catch back up with Merlin and for those of you who have read my first fic Empathy, I will include the knights this time! Thanks again for reading!**_


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin had been wandering aimlessly for what seem like days. It was an odd state of being. In an interval of time that passed quickly, at the same time stagnant and never changing.

It had been almost impossible to reach a standing point after his mind had kicked the memories of the previous day back to the forefront of his mind. _W__as there even a reason to get up?_ Time had slipped by then as well unable to be perceived by the lost servant. He made his way to his feet by one last reserve of strength, trying to push all the ideas as to why he should stay still. Unfortunately the new supposedly encouraging position, noting the fact he still had the gall to do so, did nothing to penetrate the darkness clouding his mind. He had started walking, only vaguely aware of what was around him. The bright sunlight shining happily above, the trees of the forest singing in the soft breeze, the bright green grass dancing in the wind, all fell on deaf ears and unseeing eyes of the warlock. He was completely alone. No bandits, or rudely placed tree roots to trip him. So he became lost in to his thoughts.

What could he have done differently? Tell Arthur everything he had done as soon as Uther died? Or let himself be arrested and tell him everything while he met the pyre? Yes, of course he could have done that, he could hear it now. '_Arthur I did everything to protect you. I poisoned your half sister, tried to heal your father and ended but making his death more painful, oh, and recently, when you had no one left, I killed your uncle, using magic. Now would you like me to kill myself for you, be burned like all the others, or kneel before you as you cut me down?'_

He snorted softly. There was nothing he could think of that could have kept him from an execution. He started to wonder what Arthur thought he did, or wanted, to his queen, kill her too? It was a ludicrous idea to him, but what did his friend think of him now? Or did he even regard him in any way at all? Was he thought of now as one of the many sorcerers that failed to assassinate the rulers of the kingdom? One thing he knew for sure was that Camelot was no longer his home.

…_So where was he suppose to go?_

The kingdom of Camelot had never been completely safe for him to begin with. Inhabiting a city where simply being who you were was against the law punishable only by death rarely was. By nature he had always been vigilant, people and fear had taught him to stay alert and cautious.

A savory scent pulled him from his reverie to find himself a few minutes walk from a medium sized shed-like eatery.

Feeling the need to be among people again, he quickened his pace towards the sweet smell of baking bread, a mix of meat, and freshly cut vegetables.

Five curious faces surveyed him over their supper as he arrived. Ahead of him to his right, sat two young girls perched side by side on a wooden bench both with long light brown hair, identical in every detail except for their clothes. One wore a dark green dress with a small knitted blue shall over her shoulders. The other seemed to display the opposite, wearing a deep blue dress with a small green shall. To his left, sat a young man in a dark tunic and trousers with darker hair then either of the girls. Sitting closest to him was a short, longhaired old woman with a green shawl draped over a grey and white dress.

"Greetings stranger. Not many care to take this route. Where might you be traveling to?" she asked kindly.

"I-" he paused, not having spoken in quite some time, contrary to what he was used to. His voice cracked with broken emotion, which he rushed to clear. "I'm-"

She smiled. "Why don't you sit with Gregory? There's plenty of stew to go around." The old woman stated getting up to tend to her steaming pot, which sat away from the fire in the center of the small gathering.

Merlin did as he was bid, looking over to the young man, Gregory, who slid over on the other wooden bench, allowing a space for the weary young warlock. Merlin sat next to him, helping himself to the stew the old woman had given him. He only had just realized he had not eaten since the previous afternoon.

"You should have told that man off for me when he asked us to leave." The old woman insisted, sitting back down and picking up her bowl.

"You're just not going to let that go are you Aunt Mayda? The man was about a foot taller then me! Not to mention he had all those markings on him." Gregory explained, faining irritation.

"It doesn't matter! I'm getting on in years and you're old enough now to take charge of these situations. We weren't even there long enough to make a decent profit." She finished hotly.

_I wonder what they're talking about._ Merlin thought idly, mostly engaged in his meal.

"He was right though, Camelot was not the right place for us anyway."

Merlin paused, nearly choking. He was always in the market place for one reason or another, and knew just about every person it contained.

"Who was this man who made you leave?" he asked curiously, addressing the old woman.

Aunt Mayda looked over at him, a small victorious smile working into her features. Then she frowned at the memory she was attempting to recall.

"He was really quite rude, this man. Came to us after dusk when I was closing up for day and the tavern was starting to liven up. Told me off for being reckless, said he was there to give me a warning to leave. Went by the name of Alator."

_Alator was in Camelot?_

"When was this?"

"Around a month ago. Why do you ask? Have you met him?" she questioned.

Merlin snorted at the scene of the slightly intimidating Catha telling the woman off.

"I'm familiar with him." He answered, being as vague as possible. "When I come across him again, I'll be sure ask him to be a bit more kind when aiding others."

"Thank you, my boy." She smiled.

Merlin's gaze traveled to the fire pit as the words stung him. He missed his mentor already.

"I liked living in Camelot." One of the girls pitched in. "It was beautiful."

"Yes! I miss being there. Everyone was so nice.." said the other. "Have you ever been to Camelot?" she asked pointedly to Merlin.

He looked up at the young girl sitting next to Mayda, who eyed him curiously, searching for validation in her comment. "Once, but I had to leave."

"Why?" she asked.

"I didn't belong." He deadpanned turning his gaze away.

"Then you are among good company." Smiled Mayda.

A whisper of a smile began to work on to Merlin's lips when he heard the sound of many horses approaching. They all turned to look off to the far right, the girls turning to peer over their shoulders. The sound grew closer until they could see the light of torches coming through the forest into the clearing they currently occupied.

"Maybe we should stop for the night. Start fresh in the daylight." A man called.

Finally reaching the clearing, the small, innocent group was able to make out a man on horseback, covered in a red cloak.

The knight peered over his mount taking in the small party, when he spied a tall, lanky man in a brown coat and red neckerchief.

"You there! Declare yourself!" the knight called.

To Merlin's surprise, the family of four stood with him, looking around the old woman through a near by bucket of water over the fire, grabbed the girls, and ran.

Alarmed, Merlin watched as they dashed into the forest under the cover of the rising night sky.

"Halt! After them!" the knight yelled in frustration at his, rather large, patrol party.

Successfully separated from the rest of his family, Gregory panicked and raced off in the opposite direction of the patrol. Mind snapping back into action, Merlin took off after the lone boy into the trees.

_Why are they here? I never thought the patrols went this long after dusk._ He wondered as he ran after the boy.

Finally, he heard the sounds of the stampeding horses die down. He had traveled to a murky swamp. Panting slightly, he looked around for any sign of movement, hoping to find Gregory, lead them off their trail, and find Mayda and the girls.

A twig snapped to his right and he instinctually dove for the cover of a bush. He didn't have to wait long. The sound of splashing water filled his ears as he struggled to see, to his horror, Gregory crashing through the thinly veiled fog of the swamp looking out of breath and panicked.

Indistinctly he heard the knight yelling orders, coming ever closer to the marsh. Whispering a few quick words in the old tongue, magic rushed through the warlock to carry out his command. The fog rose, thick and heavy from the swamp covering the terrified boy completely. Quickly as he dared, Merlin shuffled through the water to retrieve the young man.

"Gregory." Merlin whispered, grabbing the boy's arm. "Follow me, we need to find your aunt."

Without a word, Gregory allowed himself to be tugged slowly from the swamp, finding his footing again on the bank. As soon as they knew they were clear of being spotted, the boy was pulled into a run, Merlin leading the race back to where he thought Mayda had gone.

An hour later, the patrol called off their search, blaming the darkness of the cloudy night sky. Thankfully, they had found the girls unharmed and protected by their crafty aunt.

The group of five made their way back to the clearing, their nearly destroyed shed still standing, and began to salvage what they could. Finally able to think clearly with everyone out of danger, Merlin began to wonder the reason for the patrol's onslaught.

Why would they attack the obviously defenseless group? They weren't trying to evade anyone, considering they had a campfire going. So why did the patrol continue to travel into the night with torches? Why did the knight look so alarmed, like he recognized Merlin, and then pursue them? It was more than out of the ordinary for patrols to behave like that. It reminded him of all the hunting trips he had been forced to attend, as he watched each animals run in terror from their predators. The men yelling out orders to corner their prey as Merlin tried, sometimes in vain, to save the animals by making too much noise and allowing the panicked creature to escape. Unfortunately, this would only strengthen hunting party's determination and they would end up finding another animal to hunt down….

That was it. The knight with the patrol wasn't a patrol at all. It was a hunting party.

And they were after _him_.

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**Thank you for the reviews! **


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur stood in front of his thrown as the doors opened to the spacious room admitting two of his guards, dragging a man in a green cloak. They stopped at a respectful distance before their king and unceremoniously threw the man to the ground.

Normally, he would have not let his men be so rough with those brought before him, but this man had defied the laws set in place by his father before him. He had practiced sorcerery, and that was all he needed to know.

Arms crossed over his chain mail-covered torso, Arthur glowered down at the man as he spoke. "You have been brought here today under the accusation of sorcerery. Under the laws of Camelot you are to be sentenced to death. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I was only trying to heal my daughter, sire. She was beaten because her friends had suspected her of being a druid." The man pleaded from his place on the floor, meeting the eyes of his king.

Unrest had settled over the kingdom after the departure of the king's servant. Many resolved to follow in his father's beliefs and had begun to fight with those they suspected of any magical decent, or relation, going so far as to setting their houses a blaze. Others had calmly tired to reason with them, occasionally fighting back, claiming there was nothing wrong with magic, ready to welcome the change. More often then not however, none of them possessed even the smallest pinch of the gift.

Arthur had heard of this man, attempting to defend druids and the intensifying debate that magic was not inherently evil.

"And were they correct in their assumptions?" the king asked, already knowing the answer he would receive.

"No, my lord. In any case, not all druids have magic. What about your servant?"

That was a subject no one had dared breach. The king had remained silent the first day or so after the dark haired man had vanished in an obvious display of magic. He was slipping back into the harsh, nasty mood he possessed before meeting the man, only now he had justification in his anger, and the power to remain unchanged.

"What of him?" Arthur growled, grinding his teeth as he bite back language that was not befitting of a king in front of the court.

"Was he a druid? I saw him the night he left-he looked so frightened. Did he ever use magic to hurt yo-"

_Slap_

The sound's echo reached every corner of the room, all eyes staring at the man from who the sound had originated.

Arthur stood there, hand still raised from the violence he had just infected on the clearly ignorant, innocent man.

_He deserved it_. Said a cold voice inside his head, trying to comfort and justify his action. He froze, eyes widening. _What had he just done?_

"I-I am not fit for duty." He stated, lowering his raised hand, turning his gaze from the man, and holding a hand to his head.

Leon had come up and quickly took over making up an excuse that the young ruler had a terrible headache, and directing the guards to take the man to a holding cell.

Outside the throne room, fresh tears sprang to life anew as he quickly made his way back to his room, unable to seek comfort from his queen. Guinevere had been steadily gaining back her strength, coming back to the person he knew, but had been advised to spend most of her time resting.

He had not been himself at all since Merlin had left. The man in the cloak had unknowingly opened a fresh wound, calling this to his attention. He had let Merlin get to close to him... Maybe his father had been right.

_I would rather not rule at all, then rule alone.*_

Guinevere had tried to speak to him about how Merlin had apparently saved her. Morgana's magic had poisoned her mind and almost consumed his precious wife.

But if Merlin had magic, what did that make him? He had never influenced the royal in a malevolent way had he? No, anytime he had taken the servant's advice, he had made his own decisions and they had felt right.

No matter what he thought back to, or what Merlin had done to help him, simply served to make him feel frustrated. Were the ones he trusted those always destined to betray him?

Still, he felt a sense of something missing. When he had tried to cheer himself up and free his mind, by throwing an insult or friendly jab, it was met with an empty silence, reminding him that the person always there to throw it back in his face, to balance him, was no longer by his side. The one person's council he needed most was no longer there to assist him. His mind kept recalling the stricken look of fear on his friend's face, and the tears of loss that accompanied it not long after.

No. His father had been wrong.

Merlin had been his friend, facing every battle with him, showing unwavering loyalty. He was the first one to make him understand that, while he was the son of the king, he was not unlike the common man that depended on him to defend them, being further protected by an elusive ally. The man was clumsy, reckless, outspoken, determined, wise, and uncommonly brave.

Finally he had come to a decision. He had to let Merlin tell his side of the story, owing him as much. He had to bring him back. It was time to face his guardian in the shadows.

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**Sorry for the delay! I will post more as soon as I can. Thank you for your support!**

***Quote taken off season 5 episode 3 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon**


	6. Chapter 6

The dark haired warlock slumped down on to the bench he had just righted while in his musings as the sky began to darken.

"To be honest," Mayda started, coming up to the stricken young man. "Your friend was kind to come and warn me to leave. He found me after I healed a man who had been beaten outside the tavern. It seems I wasn't being as cautious as I had thought." She said, taking his arm in her hand.

Merlin had begun to stare at nothing in particular, lost in his thoughts while listening to the woman. He hadn't noticed the long cut down his forearm that continued to bleed. He looked up questioningly at her when she lifted the injured limb, catching the bright golden warmth in the woman's eyes. Immediately turning his gaze to his arm, only now, to find it resembled that of a cut well into the healing phase.

He stared back up at her, shocked as she wordlessly untied the shawl from her neck, revealing a familiar circular mark.

"I know what it's like to be judged simply because of who you are. But it doesn't mean who you are is _wrong_. It means you have a gift, and it's how you choose to use it that makes you different, special."

"I-thank you." He managed, growing light headed while the woman's words, the gentle use of magic hanging comfortingly in the air around him.

"Thank you for keeping my nephew safe." She smiled.

Acting accordingly to his emotions and whirling mind, his magic slowly created a storm, which covered the heavens, showering the earth below with a solemn atmosphere. "This storm will protect you from those men." He said without so much as a glance to the sky above, tearing his gaze from the druid, back to staring back into the softening ground. "But you had better leave now."

"Will you not come with us?"

It was a tempting offer to say the least. To be among one of his kind, with a family, traveling the land, not on a life risking mission to save the kingdom, but to live a simple life. To be free, to be himself.

_But when had his life ever been so simple?_

"I'm sorry, but I need to be on my own for a while." He replied without looking up.

"I understand."

With that, the family left him in silence, retreating to the safety of the forest under the cover and relative safety of the storm.

* * *

He knew he needed to face him sooner or later; he was still Emrys after all.. Or had he failed in being a warlock already?

He only had the dragon's word that Arthur was the Once and Future King, but was that even true? Sometimes, after all the lies he had made to protect his identity, it was difficult to tell if he was the same person he had before learning of this destiny.

But he needed something to believe in.

He would have to face Arthur again, and decide once and for all if the royal was the man he had hoped him to be. Not only the one depicted in the prophecy, but someone he could be himself with, and trust. Maybe one day, he would see in reality the vision of a world he had dared dream of, and so desperately clung to. A world where creatures of magic and magic users were free and respected once again.. Was there even hope for that dream to be realized?

He had to try. One more time.

He carried on, until he had reached a hill over looking Camelot. Panic rose quickly at the thought of returning to meet his fate. Would Arthur even give him a chance to explain himself?

The kingdom and it's surrounding land looked to be in a state of a small civil war. Fires rose from houses in various parts of the city, burning some of the fields. Further down the hill, some of the flowers had been turned to charcoal, the healthy green grass turned to blackened dirt, possibly from some of these quarrels having been taken outside the safety if the city walls.

Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths attempting to quell his uncertainties.

Slowly moved both his hands up in front of him, whispering in the old language. Ice followed the slow movement of his hands, naturally melting the flames on the land, moving over the field below. The water traveled down the mounds of lifeless blackened earth, extinguishing and revitalizing the very foundation of the kingdom he had given everything for.

Sighing, he made his way back into the recesses of the forest from which he had come to work out a plan on how, if given the chance, he could explain himself to his king.

* * *

_-Two weeks later-_

He walked back to the throne room, golden etched sword secured to his belt after a servant had arrived in his cambers reporting his latest patrol had returned. With his mind made up, Arthur had sent out these few patrols for the last two weeks trying to recover his lost servant.

Taking his position in front of the throne of Camelot, one of the men, a knight, by the name of Fallen stepped foreword.

"Report." He ordered.

The man bowed his head in respect. "We came across your manservant, sire. We chased him into the forest surrounding Camelot but lost his trail as night fell."

Anger instantly flared within the young king. He had given specific orders to apprehend the sorcerer, not to chase him down.

"I thought I made it clear he was not to be harmed. Only retrieved." _Not clear enough._

"But your majesty, he has betrayed you and used magic!" Fallen argued.

Arthur frowned, eyes narrowing. "He also saved your Queen, and I wish to speak with him because, evidently, this is not his first venture in saving Camelot."

The king took a deep breath. "I will make this very plain. Merlin is not to be chased down, or harmed in anyway. To assure this, I will accompany you. I want you to show me the sight where he was spotted."

"But sire! You will be leaving the kingdom without a leader! Or has the queen recovered?" the knight finished almost challengingly.

Guinevere had been gaining in strength and resolve, only succumbing to night terrors, the knowledge of which was kept within the strictest of confidences by the king, court physician, and a watchful servant. Unbeknownst to the queen, had been sworn to convey the information upon pain of death. His wife had also become more withdrawn and the king still feared for her mental health, insisting on relieving her of most of her duties as queen. He had wanted her to simply rest, but her determination and reassurance had won out, reminding him how fast word would travel if she appeared so weak, not only to the people, but neighboring kingdoms as well.

"The queen is still recuperating, and the kingdom will be in good hands. Sir Leon will remain here with her accompanied by every knight with the exception of you, Sir Gwaine, and myself. If that's alright with you, Sir Fallen." He finished with as much condescension as he could, trying to refrain from stripping the man of his knighthood right then and there.

* * *

"It was up there, a bit farther north by the Darkling Woods, my lord!" Sir Fallen called in answer of his king.

The knight led the way, followed by a still grumpy Arthur, and an irritated Sir Gwaine, who traded of from glaring at the back of the Arthur's head, and verbally berating the other knight from his previous lack of, to paraphrase Gwaine's words, tact. He had always thought the noble to be wound too tight and completely conceited. Luckily for Fallen, Percival had restrained the roguish knight after hearing not only the tone of disrespect for his _king_, but his recounting of the Merlin manhunt. He had calmed marginally since then, but not enough to hide the loathing in his voice whenever he spoke of, or to the fool in question.

"Maybe next time you will listen to his majesty long enough so that these kind of rookie mistakes will not occur, and then you can spend well deserved time in the lake to cool that hot head of yours, Fallon the callous." He spat, finishing off by bending over his horse in a mock bow.

"That's enough Gwaine!" Arthur yelled, whipping around. A part of the king himself wanted to join in insulting the arrogant knight, however Gwaine was doing enough for the whole patrol they took with them, and had not let up on the man since they rode out the city.

"Don't get me started on the subject of tact with you, _sire_." He answered darkly.

Merlin's sudden departure, along with the knowledge of his identity had hit everyone in a different way, but not in a positive way for Gwaine's moral. The knight had but affronted by their leader's reaction, but thought it best to keep his distance by not speaking to the king at all, settling on heated, pointed looks anytime he addressed the knight. Truthfully, the knight was hurt and disappointed in his king, remaining completely lost without his friend.

It had been a long, tense week. They rode on in silence from there, many of the men shivered from fear the air around them would turn to icy rain from the very irregular atmosphere. They had become accustomed to the friendly banter, and teasing air the king always had among his knights, especially with his servant. Their bond had been unwavering, and most of them wished the man to return. Unwilling to live in this dark tension all the nobles, and most of the citizens had adapted. They missed the relaxed, peaceful place that Camelot had been before these recent events.

Others among them had been irritated by the lack of respect the servant had showed their king, becoming increasingly worried as to the kind of man and ruler Arthur was becoming. They missed the firm hand the previous king had upheld over the people, and the respect he demanded from them.

They, like Fallon, believed that the world would be better off and more protected if magic did not exist. This boy was, and had been troublesome, ruining the work they had put forth toward their ideal visions they had shared with the late King Uther. Why did his son not see the reason for their fight against magic? What ideas had this _servant_ put in his head that he wanted to _speak_ with him?

Again, they would be going against their orders, but it would be for the sake of the kingdom, for the good of their new king.

* * *

**Sorry if the whole 'Fallon the Callous' insult came of as lame. I wanted it to be funny and cold at the same time.**

**Remember we leave off with Merlin being on his own in the God-only-knows-what infested forest to reflect even further on his life for two weeks.**

**If there is some confusion with the time line I apologize. My OC Fallon kept the information of their patrols, and the one successful one of finding Merlin secret, understanding of the chaos in the kingdom, and liking the firmer, harsher attitude Arthur has adopted.**

**I would also like to point out that without Merlin, and Gwen a bit unstable, Arthur is not grounded, level headed, or showing an emotion besides being a grimly determined bully. He was grown up from the the arrogant prince he was before he met Merlin, but without his support system, he is beginning to lose sight of who he is.**

**Thank you so much for reading, you guys are great!**


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin had decided to perch himself in a tree for the remainder of the afternoon. He sat about eight feet up in the old branches, taking comfort from the fact he was completely hidden from any unfriendly passersby.

He knew he had to confront Arthur eventually but unbidden thoughts, now working into _memories_, kept replaying in his head. Every time he could remember these illusions, all of them surrounded Arthur's decision on magic and what would be his fate.

They all lead him to uncomforting, and all too real visions of being roughly tied to a wooden poll, dried bundles of hay surrounding him. He could see the distraught faces of the on lookers, some resigned, some fearful. Among the ones in grief, he could see Gaius, Gwaine, and Percival, not a dry eye among them. Before the flames completely obscured his vision, he fixed his gaze up to the balcony where rulers of the kingdom would stand. He saw Gwen keeping an emotionless demeanor, looking every bit the queen she was always meant to be. In his most dreaded recurring nightmare, he would see Uther on that balcony, slowly transforming into his son, retaining the same glare of disgust while he watched the criminal below him burn.

Coming back around from his brief, but very real daydream, he was so badly startled that he fell down off his branch, to the hard darkening ground. He woke a few minutes later, still in the late afternoon, to realize he had landed spectacularly on the earth below, his left leg throbbing uncomfortably when he moved it from over a visible tree root. Shifting back to a more dignified position, he reached foreword to sooth the pain that was staring to make him feel ill.

Suddenly he jerked to the left, alarm temporarily freeing his mind of pain. He could hear as well as sense something moving closer. He waited, hoping his luck would hold out just this once and they would change direction, leaving him to tend to his leg and attempt to rest.

_What wishful thinking._

He began to hear the faint sounds of people coming in his direction, drawing ever nearer. Fearing bandits would catch him in his current predicament; he shifted his weight to his left, uninjured leg, and pushed himself to his feet. Hissing in pain, he held on to the tree for support and began to run as best he could, away from whoever seeked to close the distance between them.

Minutes later, as the sound of people grew, he realized it was not bandits he should be worrying about. He had tried to throw them off his trail by darting to the left and then right, crisscrossing to confuse his trackers but they seem undeterred. They were _definitely_ after him. The hunting party had returned.

Panic returning and roaring in him with a vengeance, he ran or limped rather, as fast as his leg would allow.

"There!" shouted the knight he met not long ago, leading the group on.

"Merlin!" yelled an authoritative but all too familiar voice. The time of the confrontation with the king had been taken from his choosing. Then realization as cold as ice water struck in the face. _Arthur was hunting him._

Facing the epitome of his trepidation he could feel only one thing, _hurt_. The knight had chosen this path for them, and Merlin had driven him straight to it. His panic soon followed, reaching its peak when he happened upon another irresponsibly placed root.

_Was nature rejecting him too?_ He briefly thought as it caught his throbbing leg, jerking him from his gaining speed and sending him flying to the ground ahead.

_Snap_

He cried out as his fear instinctively drove himself to a crawling position. He turned to look at what had been his last healthy leg. Now however, it was bent at the knee in a sickening angle, causing him to pale even further.

_Definitely dislocated. Great._

Feeling far more nauseated then before, he began to drag himself away, reaching the edge of the woods and into a coverless, open field.

_No!_ he thought urgently. He had to find somewhere to hide. He wasn't ready for this, not yet.

_Too late._ The men in his pursuit had caught up.

"Merlin!" called someone in distress. _Wait, was that Gwaine?_ He dared not turn to find out. He had to get away.

"Please!" he whispered desperately, finding it nearly impossible to locate his own voice, and still trying to drag himself away, came to the center of the clearing.

A soft thump rushed to his senses as he finally turned to find the blonde king had dismounted, and was slowly walking towards him. The warlock's eyes widened in fear and pain, turning away and trying to scramble to safety.

"Stop Merlin!" the king cried, his voice thick with fear. But how could Arthur be afraid of him? Right now he couldn't even defend himself.

"We are not hunting you.," the monarch continued. "I just want to talk. Please come back with us." The king finished not with authority in his voice, but thinly veiled grief.

Frowning in confusion, the warlock turned to look at him. What did he have to feel miserable about?

Against the physician in him, and his better judgment, he slowly and unsteadily made his way to back on his right leg, that was not dislocated but heated with more intense pain now there was pressure on it, and stood to face the king with forced dignity.

Arthur looked like he was trying to get a wild horse's trust. Slowly, he unsheathed his sword.

Merlin eyes widened at first, but came to frown again as he noticed he was shaking, either out of fear of being killed on the spot or burning pain in legs, he did not know.

Arthur held up his hands, and slowly bent until the sword was resting at his feet.

Distrustful and curious, Merlin narrowed his eyes, looking from the sword to the knight, turning his head in a questioning manner, and half looking for a possible exit.

Then, surprising the warlock, Arthur lifted his arm, and held out a trusting hand.

Shocked, Merlin was rooted to the ground. Did this mean Arthur didn't think he was evil? That magic had a chance? That he had not yet failed? That everything just might be all right again?

Merlin shifted slightly, but before he could make a move in the direction of the man he faced, or the opposite that held the smallest possibility for an evasion, he was blinded by pain, two arrows piercing him.

The first arrow went straight through his right foot, rooting him to the spot. He kneeled, rushing to relieve the pain, only to have his left shoulder immediately explode in fiery pain as the second arrow hit just above it's target, sending it's victim crashing back to the ground.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, rushing to his side, leaving Gwaine to 'restrain' the ones who had let the arrows fly.

The warlock met the ground before the king could reach him, finally surrendering to the pain, and blacking out.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

Arthur was truly afraid, unconsciously closing the distance between them. He fell to Merlin's left side; the arrow embedded in his shoulder, obscuring the king's view of his servant's face, his heart lurched. Quickly he checked for the warlock's breathing, and for one horrible moment, there was nothing.

Then, it came, with the knight nearly laughing in relief. A red blur came into his peripheral vision, as Gwaine knelt down on the other side of the injured man moments later.

"Is he…?" the knight asked quietly, sounding as though he did not wish for an answer.

"He lives." The king breathed unable to shake his sudden giddy state, releasing a shaky chuckle.

Without a second thought, Gwaine ignored the mad man who shook his head in disbelief, and began to rip his cloak into pieces. "We've got to get these arrows out of him." He explained brusquely, glancing at his fellow knight's questioning expression.

Arthur nodded, as he held the almost gaunt man down, Gwaine fixing his gaze determinedly at the wound that demanded his immediate attention, and pulled the arrow free of his shoulder.

Merlin yelped at the action, but Arthur held him steady while Gwaine quickly throwing the blasted thing away and began to staunch the rapidly spreading blood. He moved the servant's coat off his wounded shoulder, speedily wrapping the long pieces of torn fabric around the servant's shoulder and under his arm.

Then they repeated the process with his foot, removing his boot after the arrow was out, and wrapping the cloth around his foot.

"I will take him. Keep those two restrained and under guard. We need to get him back to Gaius in one piece." Arthur ordered glancing at the roughish knight and over to the remainder of the patrol.

Gwaine hesitated, reluctant to leave Merlin's side, but nodded and did as he was bid. Carefully as he could, Arthur picked up the wounded man and walked back over to the horses.

* * *

They arrived back at the castle a few hours later, Arthur handing Merlin over to Gwaine to be rushed to the court physician's chambers, leaving the king to deal with the crossbow, trigger happy fools.

Gwaine hurried up to the stairs that led to the healer's chambers, being careful not to jostle the injured man too much.

Not bothering to knock, he barged into the main room, startling it's inhabitant that had been intently reading one of numerous books. The old man looked up, recognizing the knight's face, he was about to reprimand him for once again coming in unannounced, when he caught sight of the burden in his arms. He stood there a moment, at a loss for words. He took in the limp form of a man he knew all too well, blood breaking free of the makeshift bandages and making its way to the floor.

"Gaius, please. He needs help." Gwaine prodded gently.

"Lie him down on the bed there." Gaius instructed slipping his healer's mask into place.

His ward was in a bad way. His old brown jacket was torn at the shoulder, bleeding completely through either side of the coat, the blood freely flowing down his arm and torso. With Gwaine's help they removed his lightly wrapped jacket, and cut away his tunic. The warlock was thinner then ever, his face pale, irritated only by a few small cuts.

The knight had angrily and remorsefully begun to explain to the physician the events of that evening, from the point where they picked up the servant's trail, to their reentry into the city.

Gaius listened, looking at Gwaine in surprise from time to time, while treating his patient's shoulder. He removed the bloodied sock, and carefully pulled up the right leg of his trousers, and giving the knight instructions when the king walked in.

Arthur blanched at the sight before him. Merlin was now breathing raggedly and blood covered nearly half of his body, his right leg still turned at an abnormal angle. Gwaine began to hold him down for something that would clearly be unpleasant.

"Don't just stand there Princess come give us a hand!" said the impatient knight.

Arthur walked over, and without a word, helped pin the injured man down to the bed.

"This won't be enjoyable for any of us, but I have to do it quickly. Hold him as still as you can." Gaius ordered quickly, standing by the injured man's right knee.

"Ready? One, two, three!"

The resounding snap echoed around the room plain as day. Merlin screamed in pain, and struggled under their grasp. The physician inspected his work, as his ward stopped thrashing, and slumped against the bed, panting.

"Gaius?" Arthur asked, worried when he ceased his hold on the servant and the man began to sweat. Gwaine released his grip, and following his king's gaze, placing a hand on his friend's forehead.

"I think he has a bit of a fever." He concluded.

"Right, well I am able to do the rest myself." Gaius said, a bit anxious to vacate the knights from the room.

"But-" stammered Gwaine, a little surprised at the physician's tone.

"He may become alarmed when he wakes and realizes where he is. I'll give him a strong sleeping draft so he does not further injure himself."

The physician had other reasons to evacuate the knights from the room. He wished to spare the men from more traumatic sights, being the fact he had to splint, clean, bandage, and check his other limbs and ribs for any other afflictions. Also, because it was Merlin's blood on the bandages, they would need to be burnt before the blood could be sensed or used for ill purposes.

"I will call if I need you and report when he wakes. But for now he needs plenty of rest. That is, if he is not to report to the cells?" he asked the king coldly.

Gwaine turned to glower at the king.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, trying to regain some poise. "No, that won't be necessary. But he will need to be under trusted guard. Gwaine, do you have anyone in mind?"

The knight turned and face to the king head on, fixing him with a hardened gaze. "Me."

Arthur looked a little regretful. Gwaine would have been his obvious choice as well, but he had other duties. "I need you to come with me and explain the situation to the knights of why those two that shot Merlin are in the cells."

The dark haired knight wanted nothing more then to guard his friend from any further harm, but he also wanted a piece of Fallen, who led the previous patrol, influenced some of the guards, and had worked to conceal the shooters from his notice.

"Of course." He sighed, lowering gaze to the floor, his shoulders falling slightly, then turned back to the old physician. "I'll be back to check up on him."

Gaius nodded, and the two knights left his chambers in peace.

He gathered the supplies he needed to complete the treatment of the warlock. He came back over to him, regarding him sadly. "Oh my boy. What have they done to you now?"

* * *

**Thank you so much for all the reviews! If there are any questions or concerns please feel free to ask.**


	9. Chapter 9

"How is he? Can I see him?" Gwen asked the moment Arthur walked into his chambers, having asked Gwaine to go on ahead of him to the dungeons after calling for the knights.

"He's been injured and is sleeping now." Arthur told her slumping into the nearest chair his head in his hands.

Guinevere was steadily coming back to her old self with the exception of nightmares Arthur would try to soothe her out of.

"Arthur?" she asked, coming to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"He hurt his leg trying to escape us. He was so frightened, Gwen. Then just as he started to calm, two of our own shot him."

Her eyes widened in shock, her hand going to her mouth. Then, taking a breath, she slid around and knelt to face her husband.

"It wasn't your fault, Arthur." She reasoned.

"But it is! All of it!" He said, bringing his hands from his face revealing a mask of torment. "How can I run a kingdom when even my men refuse to follow my orders?"

"Well then, first thing's first," She said standing up. "And you've already done it. Merlin is safe and recovering. Now it is time to find out why these men disobeyed you."

Arthur closed his eyes and rose to meet her. "You are right. As always."

* * *

Arthur was still furious when he returned to his chambers after mercifully sending his disobedient knight and guards to the stocks for a week. They had tried to justify their actions by wanting the best for him and the kingdom.

_What a load that had been._

Most of the knights had been against the lack of sufficient punishment, but he reasoned that he only wanted to make a point, and threaten to have the challenging men flogged if anything, such as this, were to occur again.

He would show pity even though he felt none, and despite what he felt, he could not show weakness.

* * *

_-Two days later-_

Everything became brighter as he drifted out of unconciousness.

He was laying on something a great deal softer then the ground or any various tree branches. He groaned, preparing to open his eyes and greet the quite forest.

The blinding light shown down on him from a distance as he took in his surroundings.

But it was not what he had come to expect.

Blinking fiercely, he tried to force his muddled mind to clear and focus.

"Merlin!"

_Wait, was that?..._

No. It couldn't be. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. He felt weak, his aching body and clouded mind imploring him to rest a bit longer.

Then he could make out a faint shuffling noise, and wearily blinked up into the face of an older man.

His eyes widened in panic as he looked at his very real mentor, his eyes flitting around the room. Instantly his mind whirled as the events of the previous day came rushing back. He sat bolt up right and began to struggle away from his mentor to be met with shooting pain that seemed to originate from everywhere. He looked down in terror realizing his leg could hardly respond.

"W-what happened? What have t-they done to me?"

Gaius sorrowfully studied his ward. "They found you with a swollen and dislocated leg. There is a small tear in the bone stemming from the opposite limb. As for your other injuries…"

_Arthur was unarmed, holding out a hand to him from several paces away. He moved slightly to unearth himself from the spot where he could only just hold himself up. Then, he was blinded by pain in his foot, only to be forcibly pushed back as he knelt to relieve the pain and fell into darkness._

"They shot me!" he exclaimed indignantly, as if he had only been punched roughly in the arm.

Grunting, Merlin grabbed his shoulder and tried to move his arm. The physician turned away, moved over to the table and poured some water into an old cup when realization hit the warlock. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. His left leg was propped up and splinted, the other aching in time with his foot and shoulder. He felt suddenly trapped, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Gaius was by his side in an instant, materializing from seemingly nowhere.

"Here, drink this." He offered, handing cup to him.

Had Merlin been himself, he would have asked the clever physician exactly what the cup contained. This, panicked, uncertain, injured Merlin however, obediently finished off the substance. Gaius took the cup from his ward while Merlin calmed, staring ahead of him, unseeing. Then, slowly, he lowered himself back down and drifted off.

Sighing, Gaius checked the warlock's injuries again to make sure his remedies held fast, adjusted the blanket over him, and made his way out of the room.

* * *

"Enter." The disembodied voice called after the physician had knocked solidly on the old wooden door of the king's chambers.

"Gaius?" the king asked hesitantly when the healer had reached the center of the main room. Gwen had been sitting next to him, looking over various documents and discussing matters of court, but jumped to her feet as Gaius had made himself known.

"He woke up." He stated simply, requiring no explanation.

Arthur was about to stand and go to the wounded man without another word, but the physician stopped him with a raised hand. Confused, Arthur and his queen slowly sank back into their chairs.

"My suspicions were correct it seems. But sire, I have never seen that look on his face before." the healer began.

"And what look is that?" asked the king skeptically.

"The look of a man without a world to believe in."

The look was one Gaius had witnessed this before. Men, women, farmers, and nobles alike who had their watched their worlds crumble without a fragment of hope to hold on to. When they lost a loved one or had lost the use of a limb, it was the same result. He had been there to give them words of encouragement, and with time, they had come round to the world anew. Many however, could not find the strength or will to recover, and ended up losing themselves.

Merlin's one hope in the world he had longed for, the confidence he found in the word given to him by the dragon, his faith in his best friend, appeared to have fallen completely from his sight. The warlock had been powerless to stop it, and was forced to watch as everything, and everyone he had trusted and felt safe with, had been reduced to rubble. Even in his darkest moments he had held fast to his convictions, now ripped out of his grasp.

"Can't we see him, only to put his mind at ease?" pleaded the queen.

The physician wished it were so simple. "Not at the moment, my lady. I have given him another sleeping draft."

He watched the queen lower her gaze, crestfallen as her hopes were dashed.

"I am unhappy to report that he is not in the best condition. He has lost a substantial amount of weight and blood from the swelling and trauma. One of the bones in his leg was slightly torn, and still he attempted to escape." _Even from me._ Gaius thought dejectedly.

He dreaded every word of his next statement.

"It seems that you may have already lost him, sire."

* * *

**Really happy with how this chapter turned out, though I may have short changed Arthur a bit.. Let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive criticism is welcome! Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

Over the next week, Arthur had very kingly resolved to taking several short trips to the physician's chambers, most often accompanied by his queen. He had explained to the counsel and his advisors that he wished to keep a close eye on the sorcerer by checking on him personally, and continuing his heavy guard at the healer's courters.

On one of his lone trips, he had taken to reading one of Gaius's legendary history books. He had happened upon a peculiar story of a great king and a powerful sorcerer uniting the kingdoms of Albion in a time of peace and prosperity. He took up a seat at the table, strangely intrigued by this tale. Thinking back, he remembered hearing something akin to this in his childhood. In his youth he had once had a caretaker, a woman who told him a similar story as he fell asleep. But he couldn't shake the feeling that she seemed fearful in her rendition of the myth.

In his efforts to remember more about his caretaker, he was disturbed by a nearby groan. Annoyed at losing his train of thought, he looked around the room expecting the noise to originate from the old entrance to the physician's chambers that would inevitably be the person to whom the chambers belonged.

Finding no such thing, he looked around to see the growingly familiar sight of a patient lying on a cot nearby the fire pit, starting to fidget, taking rasping breaths in discomfort.

* * *

Merlin squirmed as Gaius's numbing potion wore off. His vision was blurred when he saw the world swimming indistinctly around him again. He would quickly tried to clear it and feebly call for his mentor to have another potion to rid himself of the pain that would, of course, be combined with another sleeping draft and he would be dragged back to the comforting darkness.

His life was often much easier there; he was back in Ealdor with his mother, father, Will, and occasionally his lost love Freya. He felt as though a weight had lifted and felt uninhibited by any force where no one needed to be saved, because there was no danger. Magic was free and accepted as an extension of oneself, magic was a gift, not capable of evil, not a _curse_. Vaguely he was aware that of becoming increasingly fond of the potions that would take him back to that life he had often dreamed of, later waking to the realization that it was entirely impossible.

This time while in his perfect oblivion, Lancelot made an appearance, accompanied by a concerned, sympathetic expression. Merlin wondered why the man would carry such a heavy look in his features when he was happy and with his loved ones. Others emerged from the darkness behind him, including every friendly face he had come to know that possessed magic, Gili, Mayda, the hunted Druids, and occasionally Morgana, the way she was before he had pushed her away when she learned of her power. He took in all their faces, then turn to face Freya again finding the same grieved appearance. Turning to face the sorcerers again, his confusion ended as he remembered the trials he had faced with them. The Druid's minds began to reach out, growing from a distant echo to a fiery ringing in his ears. Unidentifiable pain caused him to snap his eyes shut, grip his head and cry out.

This time however, Gaius did not come to his aid. Instead, he came into consciousness able to make out a familiar blonde head entering his still slightly blurred vision. He squeezed his eyes shut against the light pouring from the window and bouncing off and pooling in the golden hair.

His eyes reopened, acting on reflexes adopted by recent events he instantly tried to struggle away from the king, Arthur rushed to put a hand on his good shoulder to stop him before he could injure himself further.

"Merlin. I-" he paused casting his eyes downward, trying to sort out his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to rant at him for lying to him, betraying him. He wanted to question him relentlessly, and thank him. The most prominent attribute he wanted was to be shown clemency, to be forgiven. In spite of this he had to be the diplomat he had been raised to be, realizing what subject was the most pertinent for him to address first, putting the sake of his servant before his own wishes. "The men who shot you were placed in the dungeons, and have been thrown in the stocks for disobeying orders."

The look that flashed through Merlin's eyes was one Arthur hated more then anything. It was a wall of skepticism and mistrust. A wall he had built to protect himself, one the king had made him create.

The warlock frowned guardedly. "Whose orders?"

Arthur face fell to one of a determined air. "Mine."

This only caused Merlin's frown to deepen, suspicion and doubt coloring his tone. "Why?"

The knight steeled himself to explain the most prevailing reason he knew, one that he had used with his counsel. "I am not sure what power you possess Merlin, but you saved Guinevere." He replied, hoping he sounded as genuinely grateful as he felt.

Merlin's glower remained while he dropped his gaze from the blonde. "And that has purged me of my sins?" he asked in a wavering, but hash voice.

Before Arthur contemplate this or have a reply, the main door creaked open to reveal the queen herself. She paused a moment in shock to take in the sight before her; Merlin, lucid, remaining in the room, and speaking to the king.

She left her deep purple dress to flutter behind her as she ran across the room to the other side of the warlock, enveloping him in a tight embrace.

Merlin's eyes widened in shock at the queen's instant reaction to him, moments later letting out a grunt of suppressed pain when his shoulder began to protest.

Gwen released her hold, tears dancing in her eyes. "Sorry." She amended, smiling slightly.

"How are you feeling?" Merlin asked concerned, searching her face. "I- look it was the only way to save you I'm sorr-"

She stopped his rushed apology by putting a hand on his arm, and looked incisively into his eyes. "No, Merlin. I can never repay you for what you have done. Thank you for saving my life." She said sincerely, determined to make him understand.

Merlin sat there stunned as she finished, struggling to keep stunned relief from spilling from his increasingly clouded eyes. Crying could be seen as a show of weakness, and embarrassment. He was not prepared to fall in front of those that he did not trust to catch him. How was she not angry with him given the method he used to save her? Arthur had locked up the people who had shot him. Was that for his safety or simply for disobeying their king?

The knight watched the injured man, mind swarming with questions and uncertainties. He looked at a loss to do anything. The king looked over to his wife, who met his eye and they silently agreed that it was not yet time for the conversation Arthur had wanted to have.

"Merlin, why don't you have something to eat? Gaius asked me to keep an eye on you, and offer you something if you woke." He lied smoothly, because he had not been there every time he could escape his duties, nor did he occasionally take a secret root to the physician's chambers as to not to raise suspicion, because kings would not take part in such things.

As if waiting for an introduction, Gaius opened the door to his chambers, looking over to his now very much awake ward. He had not been lucid in nearly a week, and now he had been talking to the king and queen. Concerned at how much his ward could take at once, but relieved all the same, he rushed over to the young man. Arthur stood from his chair beside Merlin and allowed the physician a moment with the servant. Gaius squeezed his good shoulder affectionately.

"It's good to see you, my boy."

That seemed to jar the warlock, from his uncertainties and turned his attention fully to his mentor.

Arthur and Gwen took this as the point where they should leave, and silently exited the room.

* * *

As soon as the king and queen had made their way out of the room, the physician smiled and stood to fetch him some bread and broth, but before he could, something caught his arm. He looked back to a, now very shaken, young man.

"Gaius?" he asked brokenly.

The warlock would often dream of his friends, thinking of the times they had shared together, the positive and regretful. His mind had begun to create places where they would individually be with him a moment, giving him encouragement or attempt to sympathize him, only to disappear and leave him in darkness. Leading him to be apprehensive of saying their names, verbally reaching out to them, for fear they would leave his company again.

Gaius's face paled at Merlin's broken voice and pleading expression. Without waiting another moment in fear the young man would shatter completely, he grabbed him, locking the traumatized boy securely in his arms.

Merlin had been alone for a nearly a month. Out there, he had to suppress anything he felt he could to keep his magic in check, stay alive, and protect himself. But he _couldn't anymore. _The embrace from the one person he could always confide in when ever he felt he needed advice, had given him the knowledge that he craved. That it was real. Finally letting his guard down, he allowed himself to be comforted by his mentor, and let his tears fall freely into the old man's shoulder.

After the sobs subsided and he took a few deep breaths, he withdrew from Gaius's hold and offered him a small watery smile. The physician returned the smile, knowing that he had needed that. He gently patted his head and went to make something for his ever thinning ward.

Merlin gingerly took the bowl from him, insisting he could use his good arm to eat, to which the physician obliged and stacked a few pillows behind him. At first it was a shaky process, having gone without any substantial food for so long. But once he had tucked in, he was cautioned a few times by his mentor to take it slowly.

"He was acting oddly Gaius. Why did he lock up his men for shooting a sorcerer? I'm an outlaw, so why am I not the one in the cells or on the chopping block? I knew the law, and went against it."

The physician sighed. "Since you left, the majority of the city has been in an uproar. Most are offended by the idea that Arthur wanted to speak with you and have you healed. Some are, surprised, yes, but they are also taking your side. The difference in opinion has led to brawls, people fleeing, frightened their lives maybe in danger for voicing their beliefs, and the burning of fields and houses." He finished sitting back in his chair.

But Merlin was slowly coming back, never failing to see a bright side. "So, I haven't failed yet?" he asked in relief, the feeling of full stomach easing him into a natural sleep.

_I haven't failed._ He thought, hope beginning to flicker within him again as he drifted off.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Hope you are enjoying the story so far. I look forward to your comments!**


	11. Chapter 11

After a day of being fully awake, Merlin had grown restless, insisting on getting out of Gaius's sick bed now that the swelling in recently his dislocated leg had gone down. The physician noted that his ward was healing rather quickly, along with his treatments and receiving regular meals was helping his body to mend itself naturally. Although the warlock refused to heal himself, his magic was certainly not hindering his progress. The aging healer conceded, lending the injured man his shoulder to take the weight off his leg and wounded foot and together they slowly made their way over to the table.

His and arms had grown stiff voicing their objection to resting for a week, legs protesting little at the awkward limping. Sitting down on the bench, he stretched, testing his limbs. Dulling bots of pain from his fractured right left reprimanded him for the action, settling as he tensed, ceasing the movement.

"Merlin?" he looked up to find the physician watching him concerned after the servant had realized he had let an involuntary hiss escape him.

The warlock furrowed his brow closing his eyes a moment. He was tired of lazing about and was determined not to have another breakdown, or appear weak, willing his body to strengthen.

His eyes snapped open at a sharp sound, flinching slightly. Finding a familiar contained in a small vile on the table in front of him, Gaius's red sleeved arm still retreating from the offending movement.

The servant felt better, and slightly drained after making his arm move to change out of the white sleep shirt and into his shirt comfortable blue one. He lifted his gaze to his mentor relaxing as the pain passed, releasing a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and nodded his thanks for the numbing potion. He glared at the potion a moment, debating weather he wanted to relive the taste.

Gaius, indisposed to the idea of letting his ward's stomach reject a substantial meal because of pain or stress, gave him a bowl of broth along with some bread. They ate in silence, occasionally making small talk, the physician trying to cheer his companion up by complaining about some of his patients with small pain thresh holds, and others with mind boggling injures he thought impossible to match with their stories.

"What happened out there?" the court physician asked after a small stretch of silence.

"Nothing." Responded the warlock, now finding his soup very interesting.

"Were you attacked? Captured? Did Morgana find you?" he asked unsatisfied with his previous answer.

"No."

"Then what happened?" _Why did you not return?_ Gaius had known his ward to be many things, stubborn being one of them. He had almost expected the boy to return and force the king to listen to him after the first week. A solemn mood had found it's way back to the physician not long after he knew at the least the warlock would not allow himself to be killed, yet he need to be secure in the knowledge the boy wasn't doing anything rash.

"Nothing. No one hurt me, I was only hunted twice, otherwise no one was there. Like I said, nothing too exciting. _Nothing._"

The way Merlin had said 'nothing' had the physician taken aback. The warlock had grown accustomed to a potentially dangerous life, and was therefore was not use to sitting still. When he said that nothing had happened, meant he had been left with nothing. No friends, threats, no people to speak with. He had been left waiting for something to happen, jumping at any unexpected sounds, left alone to reflect on what he could have done for a different outcome, left with anger, regret, not able to numb the pain, he had let that penetrate his mind, becoming lost in _nothing_.

The king had helped shape the person Merlin had become after arriving in Camelot; a courageous, powerful, cheerful, loyal servant. One willing and content to die protecting his friend, only to drive him away. The raven haired man he had brought back was not the person Gaius had originally been entrusted with. His appearance remained mostly intact, but he had changed. Becoming mistrustful, tense, agitated, and apprehensive. The king had ran his friend out of his home, and brought back a ghost of their former companion, an ever present memory of a bond that had weakened, leaving one broken.

The warlock began to shift, letting his eyes dart around the room, uncomfortable with his mentor's silence and stunned looks. He then returned to the reminisce of broth he had just finished with, starting to mop up the rest of the liquid with some small pieces of remaining bread, when two knights walked into the room.

Arthur entered the physician's courters to see an old, familiar sight of Merlin up and about, that he couldn't help but smile at. Only this time the servant did not turn to him with his usual smile. In fact he did not turn to face his guests at all. His back tensed, and he slowly lowered his head.

The second knight however, grinned openly at his friend and walked over to him.

"Merlin! It's good to see you up! Can you believe these secretive bastards had kept the news that you had been awake from me?" he said nonchalant, point a gloved thumb over his should towards the king. "Evidently I was supposed to be a good 'soldier' and not a normal fellow who wanted to see his friend." Gwaine rambled, shooting a pointed look at his king.

Arthur had stepped forward after Gwaine had made his way over to the table trying to shrug off the now tense atmosphere his knight was plainly impervious to. When he reached the table Merlin had shifted, straightening himself again, and concentrated on ringing his hands a few times before slowly looking up to the king. Merlin shook and twitched momentarily upon he meeting Arthur's eyes so much that he tried to pass it off as stretching, fighting the urge to move away. Gwaine happen to be gauging his fellow knight's intentions, missing the servant's reaction completely, the king was not so lucky.

"How are your injuries?" asked the blonde, uncertain of where to start and attempting to act as though response did not sting.

Merlin was suddenly annoyed. _What do you think? I've been betrayed and hunted by my friends and can't relax while waiting for your sentence. But you're referring to my physical injuries aren't you? _

"I've been better." He answered, attempting to smile to ease his frail nerves and failing miserably.

"Suppose we should keep the shooting practice to the training targets, huh?" he said uneasily, trying to smile with him as they use to.

It was a cruel joke and Arthur knew it. Merlin thought for a moment, trying to calm down. He frowned, remembering his anger was current more directed at himself, adopting the senses of an animal being hunted. Finally, part of him recognized the intention behind it, the part that wanted of him that wanted to put this behind him and return to the way things were, looking ahead to the future and the endeavor of healing.

Gwaine glared incredulously at the king. _Was he really so tactless? Surely Merlin wouldn't not take that lying down and forget everything so easily._

"Now it would seem I have more boots to fix up."

Gwaine was shocked. Merlin couldn't let him off as if he had only pushed him too hard while the knights were training, if at all, could he? They knew next to nothing about his time away from Camelot, what he had been through or was made to suffer.

Arthur smiled, his eyes brightening; relieved that his probe had worked and he could allow Merlin to heal his injuries, along with their friendship, before it was time to ask his many questions.

* * *

**Thanks for reviewing and reading! I really like getting into Merlin's head! He is still the sarcastic, if not resentful, and jumpy, warlock we know. Arthur is a little more difficult for me to write, but I'm working on it! Next we'll see how each of them is fairing with both of these situations; the secret out, and Merlin's new, even more shifty personality, along with his injures. Also how we'll see what's going on under their skin. I'm so excited with how this is going! I'm having fun editing/rediscovering this story and adjusting the path of the plot according to it.**

**Please continue reading and reviewing! You guys are amazing and your reviews make it worth it, and let me know both sides are enjoying the story!**


	12. Chapter 12

One thing the two, royal and warlock, had in common was their ever present lack of certainty. They kept up strong facades, but to any who knew one or the other personally, knew it was an act.

Arthur kept his normal duties but was often caught off guard, distracted. He frequently kept to his chambers attending to paperwork. When one of the knights would try in approach him, he would behave in a cold and detached manner, or simply wave them off, virtually unconcerned about the turmoil running through his kingdom.

After the known sorcerer had returned, the royal's step seemed more steady, confident. His harsh demeanor lightened and once again greeted the opinions of those in his counsel. He felt determined to punish those responsible for the outlaw's injuries.

_But was that just?_

He had yet to discuss the issue with anyone apart from Guinevere, and Gaius indirectly. To anyone he seemed more himself, more certain. When in truth he was unsure now more then ever.

He had Merlin back, which made him feel better to have the servant under his protection, while he was the one that initially put the man in this, wounded position. This merciful action did not go unnoticed by his court, who had, and would continue to give their views on the matter even after he had asked not to discuss it, finally he gave in and resolving to regular checks on the magic user by the king himself and put under constant guard to have temporary peace on the idea.

While matters of court were a primary concern, he could not ignore his own thoughts on the situation.

At first he was stunned into silence, later developing his unbridled rage. When he had cornered the sorcerer, he had barely recognized himself pointing his sword, given to him by his best friend, at Merlin with the intent to kill. He watched as the stricken man sat crumpled on the ground, simply overcome. Locking his gaze once again with something he had never seen in the man's eyes as he disappeared in the heavy night air; hopelessness. Mindlessly, he ordered a search that he knew was in vain, making his way back to the castle.

Gaius had informed him that the queen needed rest and he could do little else for her. He had wanted to rant and rave, order a reward for the sorcerer's head that had forged so many lies. In the end he simply conceded to a fitful sleep.

Gaius had yielded to tell the king of Merlin's many deeds as a sorcerer. The servant, in reality, had always been a servant, keeping the kingdom and it's rulers safe from harm.

After some reflection, he still had wanted to lock the man up, or at least hit him. The magic was one thing, but lying while earning and betraying his trust was another. The man had saved his father time and time again, the person that would see him and all his kind burned. Not to mention he had saved himself, the then prince, and the whole of Camelot inside of a week by performing subtle along with greater magical acts. As of late he had saved Gwen, all without seeking a reward, or so much as a thank you. But why? Surely no one was that giving, _selfless_. He had to have his own plans.

When he thought of it though, analyzing each situation, every battle, and could not find one that Merlin had acted in that would account for the king's identifying factor of a sorcerer, evil. He decided he needed to speak with the magic user himself, to find the core of the man's determination, why he fought.

He was face to face once more with the one person he had considered a close friend, and all the anger and bottled up confusion vanished. All he could see was a desperate, terrified, underfed, defenseless, injured man. After the man had lost consciousness, he had been surprised to discover that he himself was so relieved to find the skinny man was alive, he was shaking, discerning the thought of this man dead was incomprehensible.

Speaking to this man again, and referring to him as Merlin tasted odd on his tongue. Merlin was not so untrusting, so skinny, so _fragile_. Yet he felt more at ease with this person within his walls.

When he visited the physician's chambers yet again, he paused as the sight before his sky blue eyes slammed into him al at once. Merlin was awake, out of bed even, but this was not the person he had come to aspect. This man sat rigid in his seat, lowering his head without turning, not an obvious show of pride. He came around to see his face, still pale, his eyes flashing between doubt, and wariness, not annoying cheerfulness, and boundless confidence. He caught himself from breaking down completely and begging the servant's forgiveness, but only just, reminding himself of all the years of lies, ending up making him sheepish, and bitter.

After this, his mood would fluctuate between thinly veiled contempt, and embarrassed guilt.

* * *

Merlin's nervous behavior did not change. He was acting stronger, relaxing more around Gaius and some with Gwaine, but his mentor knew better. His ward was growing sturdier physically but was not yet himself, becoming tired easily and having to rest more often, then normal after being out of his bed for too long. The physician would go to wake him for breakfast to find he was already conscious, but very far away. Sometimes it was difficult to shake him from his reverie, coming back to the present with a jolt.

Truth be told, the warlock was more anxious back in Camelot. There was something tranquil about the forest and the life outside of his destiny. He felt comfortable enough back in his old room, noticing that as he became stronger, and his magic was not used, it started acting of it's own accord while he rested or felt stressed. It started out with small movements, hardy anything noticeable, until he woke one morning to find Gaius shaking him awake. Later hearing that the city had come by a nasty storm in the night. The physician recognized the slight tone of magic, tracing the familiar source back to a distressed, erratically sleeping warlock surrounded by an air of magic. Once awoken, the servant immediately reined his power back in, the storm only ceasing when he was able to calm himself from yet another nightmare.

Gwaine would check in from time to time trying to make him feel more welcome and comfortable, telling him stories from his many trips to the tavern. As would Gwen, when she could obtain a break from her duties, to give him news of the castle's proceedings. He continually made progress, while remaining on edge.

He could not decide what he was when in the presence of the king. He was comfortable playing the incompetent servant, but his moods would change often from resentment and mistrust, to desperate acceptance and hardened sorrow, that he was not often confident.

Merlin was becoming exhausted. He had to put up with the royal for years, letting him criticize, mock, and think him a fool. When he did finally learn the truth, and he had reacted the way he did, hunting him and bringing him back, the warlock couldn't help but feel frustrated, tired. He was for all intensive prepossesses locked away, while the king took his time entertaining the idea of what his fate should be.

When together, they made an effort to smooth things over, both missing the times when things were outwardly less complicated. Their banter came back slowly, replacing harmless joking with underlying spiteful tones, becoming far more ruthless then before. Arthur had slipped up a few times in mentioning the warlock's leg letting some of his scorned anger seep through. His response was a silent irate Merlin, feeling a particular nasty retort rise in his throat, which could have three results; hurting the king, the warlock either asking Arthur not to return to the physician's chambers, or have the servant storm off and risk hurting himself even further. Fortunately this happened few times, ending with the servant's frustrated, curt dismissal of the king. Realizing his mistake, most of the time, the knight would invent an excuse or find himself backtracking and stumbling for words around an apology, without of course, actually apologizing.

Because how could you forgive someone who's every explanation, every other word had been a lie?

How could you forgive a man whom you had devoted years of your life to serving, and have the same man turn on you, and hate you for everything you were?

During a handful of these times, Gaius had lent his ward some old walking sticks that spilt at the top, to give him more support, some feeling of dignity, and independence. With these tools, Merlin had been allowed to accompany the king around the inner castle and, when he felt up to it, out to watch the knight's train.

On his first venture out to the training yards, it was like he was finally able to breathe again. He would sit on a bench out of the way, close his eyes, simply to feel the light breeze and sun's rays welcome him back. Being so connected to the elements of the world, this may not have entirely been his imagination. Gwaine had stayed close to the warlock, opting to 'study' the training from a far to sit with his friend.

The knight had noticed the glares coming from some of the other knights in Merlin's direction, but when he turned to see if the servant had realized this, he would find him sitting peacefully on the bench next to him, simply enjoying the feeling of being outside the castle, completely oblivious.

Merlin had been back little more than two weeks and had not willingly used his gift for some time. He had refused to use any kind of magic, even to heal himself or relieve his pain, much to the physician's irritation, along with the knight's and even the king's subconscious annoyance. It felt good for the warlock to assist Gaius, Gwen or Arthur, normal, when he felt he could.

The second time he went out to watch the knights' train, and was welcomed back by the king's most trusted soldiers, Percival, Gwaine, and even Leon.

"Come on Gwaine! You're starting to look flabby!" Arthur called over to the roguish knight standing up from his vigilant spot on the bench beside Merlin.

"Look who's talking? I could have sworn that belt was beginning to crack under its laborious job!" Gwaine taunted back, striding over and picking up a sword from the rack. They began to spar, Merlin tensing slightly when he noticed his companion had left his side, but tried to take his mind off it by keeping his ever watchful eye closely on the turn of the battle.

But this peace was not to last. When suddenly a spear was flung from one of the younger knights, speeding directly towards the warlock's head. Merlin dodged instinctively, moving his head at the last possible moment, leaving inches between himself blade as it passed. The servant followed the weapon to predict it's path, watching as it was about to rip through another man's arm. Merlin's innate nature succeeded his conscious thought, eyes flashing gold, and the weapon stopped in mid air, a breath away from the older knight's arm.

When snapped to attention and realized what he had done, the weapon stopped hovering and clattered to the ground.

"Damn sorcerer!" the young knight yelled as the guards restrained him and Leon had, all too willingly, ordered him to be confined in a holding cell.

Arthur had seen most of the magic that occurred, looking back to the warlock, watching his scared, stunned eyes clouding over and rushed over to him. Gwaine was a few feet behind him, pausing to shout threats at the man being dragged away.

Arthur knelt down in front of the servant while Percival took up a watchful guard around them, and Gwaine began to, in not so many words, challenge anyone to try anything like that again.

"Merlin." Arthur called after he reached the warlock sitting on the bench waiting for a reaction, but Merlin's eyes had hazed over, unresponsive as he clutched at his head with both hands, bending over slightly.

Gwaine came and knelt beside his friend, offering small reassurances to calm him.

The older knight who had escaped a terrible wound walked up to the group, a younger man trailing after him. He stood to Merlin's left next to where Arthur had knelt, and cleared his throat, the king rising to meet him.

"Thank you, Merlin." He muttered through his thick mustache. The small group stared up at the man, the warlock having perked up at his words. The young man who had been the knight's sparing partner appeared next to him.

"That was amazing!" he hurried on enthusiastically. "If it hadn't been for you, Sir Terrance would have lost use of that arm! That was incredible!"

Merlin looked up, surprised at the knight and young man as the small group turned back to their friend smiling, with the exception of Arthur, who stood back, looking to be deep in thought.

"Y-you're welcome." replied the warlock.

* * *

The sorcerer was confined to Gaius's chambers after that, and put under an additional guard.

Arthur sat, leaning back in his seat behind the table inside his chambers, taking a break from going over some paper work. He closed his eyes, replaying the events of the day in his mind's eye. Had Merlin even said a word when he stopped the spear? Had he only looked at it? _Willed it?_ Gaius had relayed Merlin's decisions and accomplishments to him but he did not know much of what magic he possessed. He wasn't sure what the servant could do exactly, or how much he knew on the subject. How powerful was he? He couldn't be nearly as powerful as Morgana… Could he? Had Gaius really told him everything?

Merlin's return to the kingdom had brought a measure of calm over the people of Camelot. But now they were becoming restless again, and the servant's actions today were bound to get around in everyone's gossip and travel fast. His only concern was what effect it would have, and it could go in either direction, well, or horrific.

The way he had treated the sorcerer, and his men was however, having an effect. Disquiet had settled with the lords and ladies, his men were beginning to doubt him, and the common people were growing fearful, while others, began to side with Merlin and saw the king as a compassionate person.

_I cannot run a kingdom like this. My first priority is to the lords, ladies, and the council. Maybe if I can ease their minds, the rest will fall into place._

But one thing was for certain.

_Merlin cannot be above the law._

* * *

**Sorry for the delay! Thank you for reading, reviewing, and favoriting as always. I appreciate the support!**

**NOTE: Any reviews that Do Not contain Constructive criticism will be removed. **


	13. Chapter 13

Merlin was growing restless being cooped up under house arrest. He was healing faster now having nothing to do but read, help Gaius, rest, and make remedies for various patients. He needed to stretch his legs, he needed some freedom.

The physician's chambers were beginning to get to him as vast as they were compared to his home in Ealdor, it still felt constricting as though the very air was congested, clouded with a dead air. He was beginning to understand what the dragon had experienced imprisoned beneath a city, betrayed by a man he had thought better of, trustworthy.

He was trapped again under lock and key from his mind, driving him mad.

One night, he seized his opportunity. It was late, after his mentor had gone to sleep, guided by small amounts of light escaping from the moon beyond the clouds. He was able to hobble around well enough without the use of his walking sticks, so he decided to leave them behind, as he would not be gone long, he quietly made his way out of his room, and past the sleeping physician. He opened the main door ever so slightly to find the guards outside nodding off.

Honestly, if nothing else, he needed to speak to Arthur about his seriously lacking security.

He waited a few more minutes until he could sneak passed the men without alarming them, or the ones in charge of the warning bell, that if rung, would possibly give him a heart attack given his newly adopted, easily startled nature.

He took his jacket with him wrapping it loosely around his shoulders, as the muscles were still healing and too easily irritated to wear it properly, in the cool air inhabiting the halls of the castle. _If I could only make it to an empty corridor, or find a bigger window, I could sit on the roof for a little while.. _

He just wanted a half an hour to escape the compressing walls of Camelot, if only to free his mind and breathe the cold, foggy night air.

Rounding a corner, he came up short, realizing he had crossed into the wrong corridor.

Three knights in dark cloaks stood little more then twenty paces from him, their torches lit, carrying drinks, now nearly drained.

He began to back away and retreat the way he had come, but his right, still healing leg and aching foot had taken too much of his weight on the back step and fell to his knees, cursing and temporarily blinded by a sharp pain. That had done it. The men had heard him and were already casting a light on his pained and agitated face before he could so much as back away.

"What do we have here?" drawled the first.

"Looks like the famous manservant sorcerer." answered the second.

"I heard about your little act of 'heroism' you preformed a few days ago. It's a shame my son missed your head with that spear." spat the third.

"We have time now. Why don't we thank him for landing your boy in the cells, and for his accidental slip of the wrist on the throw, so he could 'save' Terrance." sneered the first.

"Yeah, I always wondered about that knight. His optimism always seemed a little sued." gossiped the second.

The distraction was too good to let pass, he felt far too vulnerable sitting cornered on the floor against the freezing stonewall. He needed to get away. Carefully, he began to inch to his left.

"What's your hurry sorcerer?" spat the third knight, stepping to block his exit and ending the other's entertaining discussion.

"Were you trying to run to your pitting king? Or your group of enchanted knights to protect you?" asked the second.

"Why don't you just use your power on us? Are we not special enough to receive the same spell your 'friends' are under?" taunted the first.

"They are not under any spell! Now if you'll let me go.." Merlin said indignantly, trying to keep up a brave pretence.

"Will you take your spell off all those close to you who _seem_ in favor of magic, leave this kingdom never to return?"

_No! _he thought alarmed, his composure lost. He could not go back to that solitude, drifting forever in the forests, afraid to be seen by people in fear of being hunted like a criminal. _Like the monster he was._

"No!" he yelled frantically. Terror sprang to mind with a jolt, sharp and fresh as he had felt when Arthur had been chasing after him, before he was shot, spreading through his veins like poison.

"Well then, if you won't use _your_ power, we will use _ours_."

And a new hell began. He curled in on himself; protecting his bad leg as they kicked and stomped on every inch of him they could reach. But soon they grew tired of that and hauled him to his feet beginning the barrage of punches, punishing him for who he was.

Magic.

"This should have been done long ago. You _deserve_ this, sorcerer." One of the men reeking of ale whispered to him holding the servant up by the throat, the man's voice full of contempt and hate before all of them continued to beat him openly, abandoning any lingering restraint.

There was nothing he could do. Using his magic would make everything they identified with sorcerery true. He would be no different from the countless sorcerers he had fought to defend the kingdom, ending in the validation of their accusations and fear. All he was able to do was feel their abusive fists and kicks relentlessly strike him.

What if this was his new life? What if he was never accepted? If he was rejected from his home did that mean he was a monster? Was this the path fate intended? Or was this his own fault for trying to change the world, and create a life he didn't deserve?

The bombardment of pounding limbs seemed to pound him into the wall combining flesh with stone, but none of it mattered. His thoughts scared away the pain, allowing numbing adrenaline to make him feel hollow. It was worse then the endless assaults on his injured form it engulfed him once again in doubt, fear, and chained him down in his mind's lightless cavern making the outside world like a distant pressure of an old bruise long forgotten. This seemed to go on for hours before he finally, involuntarily screamed out in pain. As if answering to his call, the soldiers halted their onslaught, hearing the sound of heavy boots hitting stone alerting the men that someone was approaching. Unwilling to be caught, they dropped the battered, bruised, and bleeding warlock and ran the other way, out of sight.

* * *

**Finally I am able to post a new chapter! Sorry for the wait, finals are approaching and I had just left town for a week to work. I missed writing though, and school gets in the way a lot, I am so ready for summer! Thank you for sticking with me, reading, reviewing, following and favoriting!**


	14. Chapter 14

The sun had set over another day in the beautiful city of Camelot, the king having just retired to his chambers. He was reviewing the written reports of the counsel accompanied a servant, George, attending to him for the evening.

"What would you say, George, if I asked you to clean the floors of the throne room with a cloth the size of your hand?" he asked, wanting the man to show some kind of emotion, and waiting for a, not doubt insulting reply. He was bored if nothing else, looking for a distraction from his work.

George frowned, then standing to his full height answered. "I would ask as to how soon you would like it done, my lord."

Arthur sat back in his chair, at a loss for words. Here was a servant he could assign the most absurd chores, the one his father had likely wanted for him before a stupid, scrawny idiot had saved his life and been awarded the position. Here was the perfect servant, and felt wrong. He was efficient, prompt, obedient, and seemed to take the phrase 'boot licker' as a pledged vow. He was never rude, incompetent, or disrespectful. He was however, honest. He sighed, slumping in his seat, letting the pain of Merlin's betrayal wash over him again as though ice water had been poured down his back.

His anger had mostly subsided; leaving his head spinning with the reality of what was truth and what had to be decided.

He had heard members of the counsel exchanging ideas as to what the servant had done to him, rumors of enchantments, black mail, and queries as to who was truly ruling Camelot spread like fog seeping through crack doors. The most stunning and unexpected rumor was one of the servants making that was questioned and carried to the lords and ladies; if the sorcerer was not in fact a wolf in sheep's clothing. They were wondering if Merlin did not wish for the downfall of Camelot, if he was, in fact, loyal to them.

The subject of magic was not only being crucified, but discussed.

Arthur was even more alarmed to find this did not unsettle him as much as he once thought.

He had brought this revelation to Gwaine, who had withdrawn slightly after the incident in the training yards, to have an opinion from foreign perspective, to which he replied, "The last thing I would doubt, after all these years, is his loyalty."

The king was finally driven from his thoughts by someone calling to him.

"Sire? Sir Terrance has returned and wishes to report his findings." The servant stated, as the Arthur looked up to find the knight had already entered the room waiting for the king to respond.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind, and quickly stood to address the knight properly.

"Yes, please begin. George, you may leave." He dismissed, the servant bowing out of the room as he went. The king couldn't but help but glare after him.

The knight watched him worriedly until Arthur motioned for him to speak.

"I apologize, sire, but we found nothing unusual. The guards also had very little of importance to tell." sighed Sir Terrence disappointed with his lack of information.

Arthur did not blame him. He had sent out the knight in one of the patrol after the king himself had asked in a discussion after a meeting a few days previous. The king had requested him to lead a small patrol in search of anything out of the ordinary, to question anyone he met, anything that point him in the direction of an accomplice to Morgana. After the queen had been saved from her spell he had doubled the patrol to search for her or to simply ward her off, as it seemed to be proving useless. He knew the enchantment Gwen had been under was cast far from the Camelot, only now he was worried if the witch did not reside closer then he thought, and what or with who she would strike at the kingdom with. It also might give him clues as to what, if anything tangible had happened to Merlin while they had been looking for him. The king knew he was the reason the man was not the smiling idiot babbling nonsense in his ear, but maybe there had been some incident the servant had experienced when he left Camelot that made him this way. It was horrible of him to hope for this, if it was only a fruitless search in attempt to ease his own guilt. Unlike all the battles, ambushes, and impossible quests, the only one that had inflicted the damage, the only one responsible for Merlin's pain and the one that had put him in danger was Arthur himself. He did not want to admit it, he wanted there to be another cause, someone else to blame. It seemed he was fated to watch everyone he care for suffer because of him.

The king closed his eyes kneading his forehead between his thumb and forefinger.

"Right. What of my other request?"

"I questioned the guards tasked with monitoring the physician's and," the knight shifted uncertainly. "Your servant's, daily routines, as far as entering and exiting the chambers, and they have not witnessed anything, out of the ordinary."

Arthur was at a loss. At any other time, on any other subject he may have smirked at the man's lack of subtlety, but he understood his unease. He had wanted to keep an eye on Merlin without encouraging the rumors, something the counsel had insisted upon.

The king thanked the knight and dismissed him, in favor of the cool darkness and the comfort of his bed. He extinguished the candles closed his eyes trying to push all concerning thoughts out of his head as he drift off.

* * *

When the men left him to crumple to the cold ground, it took him a few moments to realize he was alone, not quite free from the dark corner of his mind. The footsteps grew louder, he slowly became aware a distant light of a torch and, like the three men, did not want to be found. In his most reoccurring nightmare he was repeatedly burnt at the stake, the king creating new ways to torture him with fire before he woke in a drenched sweat. Not entirely aware he was not currently in any danger, he attempted to scramble into the shadows to evade the flames he knew he never outrun, but found he could do little in the way of movement. He merely managed to move his arm underneath him to at least prop himself against the wall groaning when he did so, and soon learnt he didn't possess the energy, or the strength.

"I think it came from over here!" Apart of his brain recognized the shouts, but the sounds were muffled and sounded as though they were being heard from under water.

"Come on, mate. It was probably just a bird or something."

"No. I'm certain it came from this direction."

The light warmth of the fire blazing on the torch finally landed on him for the second time that night.

"M-Merlin?" asked a startled Leon. The man in question lay on his side against the wall arms sprawled in front of him, with his eyes open staring ahead of him, void of light.

"Merlin?!" came another voice from behind him he distantly identified as Gwaine.

The knights gathered around the prone form as a moment's silent hesitation passed over the group. Finally the warlock blinked back to full awareness, twitching his figures in way of response.

Their barley audible collective sigh did little to ease the tense night air.

"What happened?" asked Percival asked quietly, slowly moving him to lean against the wall, he didn't move, only flicked his gaze to the floor. After the knight received no hint of a response, the servant heard the familiar movement of chainmail as the tall man knelt down in front of him. He could feel Percival's eyes on him, trying to discern the condition of the servant from his freshly injured face.

"Nothing." Merlin grunted, surprised his voice was more then a whisper. He was trying not to think, knowing it would bring all the pain he had felt back to the surface, wanting to stay numb for as long as he could, even if he knew it wasn't the healthiest of actions. He appreciated the knight's concern, however he really just wanted to be left alone.

"No. Who did this to you." demanded Gwaine, who stood looking down both ends of the hall as if the offending men would return and offer themselves as victim to the knight's rage as he ground his teeth in disgust and pint up fury.

Leon drew a deep breath, knowing their quarries would not bring them the answers they sought, and resolutely stood to take charge. "Percival, go warn Arthur of what has happened. Gwaine, I want you to take Merlin to the king. I'll go ask the men on duty if they heard anything and wake Gaius." He ordered. "This is getting out of hand." He muttered as an after thought before taking off to the physician's chambers.

"Help me get him up first, Percy." Gwaine asked evenly after the king's second in command had left.

"Which one of your legs was the bad one?" the knight asked his friend, trying to gage the warlock's condition before moving him while Percival went to one side of him and took hold of his upper arm.

"Right." Merlin hissed feebly as Gwaine took up the other side, pulsing irritations making their way to his every conscious thought, and was pulled slowly to his feet.

Aching, stabbing pain seemed to explode from everywhere as those it were a volcano and had only previously been bubbling under the surface, temporarily depriving his lungs of air. The movement did even lessen his vision making the corridor darken even further while the two men held him steady on his feet. He wanted to be left there to rest, to close his eyes for only a moment.

"Right. Okay then, put him on the left so he can lean on me..." He chattered nervously as Percival transferred the weight of the nearly limp man over to his brother in arms.

"Got him."

The taller man nodded, turned, and disappeared in the darkened hall back in the direction they had come.

"Come on, mate. It's not far off; you can make it from here. Whoa!" Gwaine exclaimed, the warlock having surrendered briefly to the welcoming darkness his body implored him to be submerged in. He jumped away from the cold pool of unconsciousness jarringly by the man's surprised voice, whom he had almost taken down with him by catching the knight off guard.

"Easy there my friend, we'll soon get this all worked out and get you fixed up." Gwaine soothed, trying to ease both their minds.

Merlin jerked suddenly to attention, finally able to clear some of the haze from his mind. Had he heard right? Did Gwaine still want him as a friend? Or was this another figment of his own imagination there to taught him? He tried to clutch at the chain mail right beneath his arm that was slug over the knight's shoulder. He knew he had to stay conscious, he knew Gwaine was helping him, and he also knew he was being taken to Arthur. This made him vaguely think of resisting their progress. He felt tired, embarrassed at the manner in which he was being taken to see the man that had not bothered to see him for a week. The warlock did not want, or feel up to dealing with the annoyed, degrading tone he expected, or the man that came with it.

The injured and now sweating man, heavily assisted by his friend, made their way as swiftly as they could without Merlin hissing or having to stop to catch his breath because of the pain, which wasn't very fast, given he did so every few steps. Gwaine prattled on in attempt to keep his friend from passing out even though the servant didn't respond. However, after what seemed like quite a trek, they reached their destination.

The guards on either side of the king's chamber doors paled when they saw Merlin, one of their jaws dropping in astonishment at the battered young man.

"Quit your gawking and let us in! Hey Princess!" defended Gwaine, almost succeeding in pounding on the door of the royal chambers.

"Enter!"

Helpfully, the guards managed to pull themselves together enough to open the doors before the knight had a chance to knock them down.

Thankfully, the queen was not present for this. Arthur stood in a white sleeping tunic and old brown trousers behind the dining table with his arms crossed in front of him, talking to Percival. The king paled as he took in the appearance of his servant, now fully exposed to the light of the candles, his arms dropping to his sides. It went unnoticed by the dark haired man, who was still trying to adjust his eyes to the light of the many dancing flames.

Merlin was leaning, almost being carried by Gwaine, bleeding from his hairline, nose and mouth, had one blackened, swollen eye, red fist shaped blots on either side of his face trailing to his red and purple neck. His jacket having been lost along the way, his tunic almost successfully concealed a nicely swelling bruise. The shirt covered many more bruises, bleeding cuts visible in various areas; his right leg had swollen to an unusual size. Gwaine looked positively murderous.

"That bad, huh? Not my best look then?" the servant asked jokingly to the man supporting him, trying to crack the nearly impeniatrable wall of tension. His voice sounded grated and hoarse as he restrained himself from coughing.

"This isn't funny Merlin!" barked Arthur, recovering some of his composer.

"Damn right it's not!" yelled Gwaine, moving forward to assist his friend in a nearby chair at the dining table. The knight withholding some anger from the king in favor of finding and punishing those responsible for harming his friend.

The pain in the warlock's leg lessened somewhat when his weight was off it, only to allow another sharp, biting pain in his side to be forced to the forefront of his mind, making him clutch at it in an attempt to ease the pain.

"Who did this to you?" repeated Percival.

"It doesn't matter." Argued the warlock, dropping his gaze to the floor and fighting a grimace.

"Yes it does! Don't be stupid!" Gwaine disagreed vehemently.

"Merlin!"

"It was dark okay? I couldn't see their faces!" answered the fatigued, and now irritated servant. Couldn't he be left to rest? Yelling was doing nothing to lessen the pounding in his head.

"So there was more then one?" stated the king, catching on quickly, his mind unwillingly picturing the scene.

"I-" he stammered, now feeling cornered. "Can't we just forget it happened?!" pleaded Merlin.

"No!" came the unanimous reply making his ears ringing uncomfortably.

"Come on Merlin, they couldn't have been wondering around in the dark! What were you doing outside of Gaius's chambers anyway?" reasoned Arthur, his concern falling to an air of suspicion.

"I needed some fresh air! And they were drunk, okay?" he paused to cough, paying the toll for raising his voice in his current condition. He took a deep despairing breath, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, feeling the stinging heat of the bruises that decorated his face, and steadied himself. "It's not important in any case."

"What is the reason you're protecting them?" asked the king, exasperated. "Why are you so determined to hide from this? Something so simple as carrying the punishment of those responsible for-"

_Simple?_

"It's not simple, Arthur!" exclaimed Merlin, anger robbing his mind of pain. "And according to the law it, this is justified! Something as ingrained as prejudice cannot be expected to be over come after more then twenty years of acceptance of persecution. You can't lock up anyone for carrying out what is not against the law. Besides this is _nothing _compared to what those with magic have had to endure."

"Don't you even begin to speak of my father!" warned the king. Biting back the warlock's reasoning that could be viewed as a challenge and an order.

"You mean his actions of brutally murdering so many?" Merlin continued, anger rising again to defend people that could no more defend themselves then be present in the room. "Including drowning _children_?"

Arthur's fiery rage suddenly cooled. He did know of that particular sentence his father had ordered, but the idea was beyond his comprehension.

"My father only did what he felt would protect the kingdom. I have only witnessed suffering at the hands of those who use it!"

It was Merlin's turn to falter. He had realized this before; they had both suffered because of magic. He himself possessed the gift and he wasn't like them, he wasn't evil. He couldn't be, he reasoned, while his mind began to fill with horror and his gaze grew far away.

Arthur watched the servant become even paler, if that were possible, and looked to be at a loss for words. He sighed deflated, then looked to his knights.

"Gwaine, Percival, I would like to speak with Merlin. Unaided."

"Surely that can wait until morning." asked Gwaine following the king's line of thought, concerned for his damaged friend.

"Evidently, it cannot." The king affirmed.

* * *

**Poor Merlin! Unfortunately he's just gotten into the woods, trying to adjust to being a captive in his own home, secrets laid bare to be judged, and betrayal still fresh while the two friends only attempting to deny it's existence.**

**Next chapter Merlin's time for a real explanation for his actions has come.**

**Thank you for all your support! Please continue to review! **


	15. Chapter 15

Two of the king's most trusted knights exchanged a look, yielding to the king's will and incentive, silently agreeing this could wait no longer, it was time.

Arthur was willing to hear what Merlin had to say, and for him to continue living in Camelot they had to talk.

After the knights vacated the room, the king was about to turn and pull up a chair across the table from Merlin when he heard and strangled, faltering, whispering noise. He turned, finding the warlock where he had left him, sitting with his arm wrapped around himself as though unraveling it would mean his bones would turn to dust. His head was bowed but not enough to hide his horrified expression.

"Merlin?"

Cautiously, he made his way closer to the servant, frowning in concentration to make out what he was muttering about. He came to a halt in front of the battered man his eyes widening when his strained ears clearly heard what the sorcerer was saying.

"I've failed. I'll never be free. Nothing will change. Alone. _I'm_ a _monster_." He chanted hopelessly.

All this time he had spent think of what to was to be done after his friend had broken his trust and lied to him. He had thought back at all the other times when Merlin's loyalty to Camelot had been tested and he had never wavered, always putting Arthur's safety above his own life. Gaius had told him he had magic long before he came to Camelot, and had been using it to vanquish every magical threat that presented itself to the kingdom. Every single day, he had to face the possibility that his secret would be revealed, that he could die every time he used it even if it was to save a life, but he had done so anyway. All this time he had only thought what consequence this new information had for him and his kingdom, but never how it affected Merlin. He had experienced briefly what it was to hide who he was, by saving a tavern from hostile drunken men, and entering a jousting tournament under a disguise. Even then he had his servant had been with him and covered for him. The warlock had known the knowledge of this secret would change everything for him if anyone found out. The servant had to lie and let everyone believe he was useless, and Arthur had taken full advantage of that and walked all over him. What had that meant the warlock thought of the king, when, every time he had taken his treatment? What had that been like for him? Merlin had been alone in this.

Arthur let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as the terrible weight of his ignorance crashed down on him. He needed to do something. Slowly, he crouched down in front of the warlock getting a full view of his face. The servant's eyes were wide holding none of the life or the teasing spark of sarcasm that had become so familiar to the king. His expression was horrified as though he had just been dealt a mortal blow, his eyes widened in shock and hazed over as though he were far away.

Suddenly, terror gripped the knight, and without thinking he reached out and grabbed the warlock's wrist that was not already curled around him, as though it the action could save the man from the horrible fate he seemed to be experiencing.

"Merlin. Listen to me. None of what you're saying is true. Not from what I've heard."

The servant had lost sight of where he was, as the darkness threatened to take him. He hadn't been aware of anything around him, lost in dead space, until some blinding light had shot through out of nowhere letting down a single golden line. As soon as he reached for it, he felt a cool pressure that involved not pain, but instead demanded his attention. The servant finally blinked, his eyes clearing as he snapped back to reality. He regarded the king with thinly veiled shock that quickly turned to skepticism.

"What do you mean?" he asked, while Arthur tried to ignore his guarded, uncertain tone.

The knight was relieved at his successful attempt at pulling Merlin back from where ever his damaged persona had taken him, unable to hide a sigh as the warlock had briefly relaxed, his eyes clearing at the contact. He released the sorcerer and went to settle himself in the chair across the table from him. "Gaius told me some of what you have done, your accomplishments. But I'm beginning to believe it is not the whole story."

"Accomplishments?" the servant snorted derisively. "Is that what you consider them?"

"You don't?" Arthur wondered, puzzled as he folded his hands on the table in front of him.

Merlin gaze returned to the floor, doubtful.

"Then I would like to hear what has happened from an eye witness." Proclaimed the king.

"You want to know what I've done." Merlin stated, without meeting his gaze.

"That would be ideal, unless you know of someone that has seen these various actions?" Arthur asked good naturedly.

But it fell flat. The servant's face darkened to one of pain and regret. "That would be difficult, and a moot point. I've seen so many deaths that were cruel and unnecessary."

"Such as?" prompted the king after a moment of silence.

Merlin sighed, trying to clear his mind. He knew this was coming, and after recent events they could delay it no longer.

"Do you remember how I became your servant?"

* * *

Merlin told Arthur everything, leaving the sensitive topic of the dragon and every thing involving him for the time being.

He began with the witch disguised as Lady Helen attacking the prince, and how he had slowed the thrown dagger in enough time to pull the prince to safety, ending with the king rewarding him with task of becoming Arthur's servant. This although indirectly, had meant the king given a sorcerer charge of keeping his son safe, even if it meant killing his own kind.

The servant's sharp and eager eye to find any discreet use of magic in a tournament not long after becoming the servant to the future ruler. He discovers a knight that had armed himself with an enchanted shield of vicious snakes. Merlin had spent the night before the prince's fight with the cheating knight practicing the spell that would expose the man.

The High Priestess Nimueh poisoning the water supply, causing Gwen's father to become ill, and Merlin to heal him. The king having heard of this brought Gwen into questioning ending with an innocent, powerless girl to mourn her father's execution. When they had hunted down the monster responsible, the servant had found it's weakness and used the elements to destroy the creature.

Nimueh disguising herself as a servant in an effort to poison Merlin. Arthur had gone to find the flower that would become the antidote to the poison, and becoming trapped in a cavern with giant spiders rushing to consume him. The servant had known the prince was in danger and had conjured the orb of light that saved the prince's life, Arthur also saving his in return.

Merlin's first meeting with Lancelot, and their courageous, combined effort to slay the griffin that had plagued Camelot by lighting the man's spear with a spell that could kill it.

When Merlin saved Arthur by destroying Sophia and her father who wished to sacrifice the prince to open the gates of Avalon and regain the sidhe girl's immortality. Continuing to skip over to the time after the helped a younger Mordred escape Uther's grasp, and the forging of the current king's favorite sword, Morgana's first act of revenge to try to kill the late king.

The prince's hunting trip gone awry when they came upon the Questing Beast, and the two set out to destroy it, soon they found the creature, which bit Arthur before Merlin could slay it with magic. After he rushed Arthur back to Camelot, Gaius explained there is nothing he can do. The servant, only accompanied by the physician and the unconscious prince, used his magic to find possible cures that have no effect. Left with no other option he then sought out Nimueh to sacrifice his life at the Isle of the Blessed to save Arthur.

He paused, allowing himself a moment of rest and the king to digest every event's retelling.

The king sat, incredulous as he took it all in, remembering each event in turn. Each explanation the servant had spouted compared with the truth. "I don't understand you, Merlin. Why would you risk so much for me?"

It didn't make sense. Merlin should have turned back and left the day he set foot in Camelot. He had to have seen the executions at some point before becoming his servant, so what possible reason could he have to stay? Arthur knew he hadn't made it easy on him in the beginning, so what would have possessed the idiot to not only risk the possibility of his secret being found out and killed for having magic, but to continually throw his life in peril for the son of a man who would not so much as blink when sentencing him to his end; not of it added up. Merlin was not a coward, but he was also not stupid.

"I told you." Merlin stated tiredly. "_Eventually_ we became friends, and you are a royal, granted a royal pain, but a royal nonetheless." Again he paused, wheezing lightly and trying to catch his breath. His chest had been burning for a while but he had brushed it off, determined to tell Arthur the truth he had wanted to from the beginning.

"Why did you not leave even after your knowledge of the law? How did keep yourself from fleeing or at least smacking me upside the head?" He paused remembering all the hunting trips that had almost ended in their deaths, all the training sessions where he had fought the servant that could not defend himself so easily. "I know it couldn't have been easy for you back then, not that I helped much."

"The half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole."

"Come again?"

Merlin would have laughed hearing the response similar to his own echoed back at him, but the burning in his lungs was worsening by the second, so he settled on a slight scoff.

"It's a bit complicated, anyway my entire life has been decided on the measures I took to keep my secret hidden. If not for Gaius to guide me, things could have take a very different course."

A brief image of Morgana flashed across his mind. He sighed, trying not to wince from the raging fire in his chest that almost blocked out all the wounds he had yet to recover from. Almost. "Other then the kingdom's grandeur, it wasn't all that different from my life before." He shrugged, an annoyed hiss escaping him when his shoulder had reminded him of the projectile that had once been lodged in it.

Arthur seemed to hear and notice his increasing discomfort, and was about to speak when the servant, as per usual, cut him off.

"Besides, it is my destiny.. to protect you."

Breathing had become near agony for the warlock as he made an effort to control it. However he knew it was inevitable to keep the brief cough clawing up his throat at bay, and was unable to thwart it any longer. Managing his breathing had become a work of intense labor, every injury threatening to overwhelm him completely. His sudden panic at the thought of it, as well as heavy exhaustion compelled black dots to danced across his vision_._

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed worriedly. Watching as the servant's hardened mask shattered, braking out in pain and alarm using both hands to cast his torso in a protective hold from an enemy that could not be seen.

Arthur rushed to stand beside him and put a comforting hand on his back while he doubled over in pain. "Hang on, breathe okay?" he tried, glancing around the chambers as though he could will help to appear without calling for it.

"I'll go get Gaius." He stated, and honestly he wanted to aid the injured man, and the knight's instincts told him Merlin needed a physician's aid, but he feared leaving him alone in such a state, not entirely trusting anyone else to watch him.

"Don't bother." The servant stated in a huff as he finally gave into the overwhelming darkness.

* * *

Arthur's brain was flying in too many directions to think straight. He wasn't sure what to do to help an injured man that had passed out and was wheezing in a great effort to simply breathe. Moving him might make any injures, fading as well as recent, worse and hurt him even further, if that were even possible. He wanted to yell for the guards to bring the court physician, but that could become misconstrued as a cry for help and put him in an ever worsening position.

Another thing that kept sending the king's thoughts into a freeze was the man's continually paling skin, sweat forming on his brow, and the pained expression marring his face. Merlin had collapsed forward his arms still wrapped around his torso, while his face rested on the table. The knight had time to register a small, cut off groan explode through the too silent room before Sir Leon threw the door open, as the Arthur had obviously not heard him call, admitting the very man he had been hoping to appear.

Gaius walked in behind Leon and was about to apologize for barging in when he caught sight of his ward temporarily hidden by the back of the chair. He rushed over to the pair, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder before glancing over and recognizing the look of stunned fear on the king's face. Quickly he went to feel the servant's wet and abnormally warm forehead.

Arthur turned his attention to the knight, anger diminishing most of his anxiety. "What took you so long?" he nearly yelled, not even making an effort to keep his voice down so as not to alert any one else.

"I'm sorry my lord, I was questioning the guards surrounding the area where Merlin was attacked to get more information before any witnesses could disappear. I woke Gaius and explained what had happened and headed straight for you're chambers."

"You thought the injuries of a wounded man less important?" He barked, acknowledging the knight's logic in catching the culprit, but he was too angry to give him the credit. It wasn't Leon's fault entirely, the man had always been exceedingly rational in these situations and Arthur had even admired him for that. No, it wasn't Leon who he was angry with.

"I didn't think _you_ thought they were important."

The king was stung with a pang of regret. Had he really seemed so indifferent? Or _had_ he been to involved in his own ailments to care?

A quiet voice sounded in the brief silence that followed.

"He's burning."

The irony was too obvious to be ignored. Arthur felt a rush of guilt and a horrible twist of nausea as he turned back to the physician.

"His fever is far too high. I need to get him back to my chambers, then I can assess the rest of his injuries." The physician reported.

Leon looked over to the physician and back to his king who numbly nodded in response. The knight crossed the room, and with incredible care, pushed the warlock into a sitting position and into his arms.

Gaius led the way through the doors of the royal chambers for the knight to follow, leaving the king alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Back in the physician's chambers, Leon carefully laid the servant on the patient's cot while Gaius retrieved his supplies. The knight waited, asking if there was anything he could do. The physician shook his head advising him to get some rest. The knight conceded and took his leave.

Gaius took a ready made damp cloth and applied it to his ward's scorching head. He took in the dried blood on his head, nose and mouth, along with a bruise on his throat he believed to not be severe enough to cause the boy's irregular breathing.

An idea crossed his mind and he took hold of the servant shirt exposing a horrifying sight. There was a very obvious protrusion from the warlock's torso that he was shocked he hadn't seen it immediately. Swollen and bruising badly was a nearly dislodged rib poking out enough that he wondered how the warlock had been able to move or breathe easily if at all. Pitying the boy that had been not only been confined in his chamber but due to the state of his leg, he looked down to his right leg, which had swollen again to an almost unsafe size.

He smiled through slightly tearful eyes. Merlin would not be happy when he woke. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Okay so I have written out most of this story, but each chapter I have made previously is very short, so I'm having to go back and beef it up a bit. **

**This fic has changed considerably from the way it was when I first wrote it. I continue to hope it is being well received by all who have read it.**

**I used some of the synopsis on wikipidea on this chapter to help with my own brief over views of the seasons.**

**Thank you to all who have read/reviewed/favorited this fic! Please continue to do so!**


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